something about roomates, i remember.
the slow, slender pulse of the boys waking up to nothing.
i never cooked
nor did they, except for the rarity of brilliance that was Aaron behind a stove.
we lived in squalor, but it was love.
and the dust piled up, the dirt and grime never left our necks
or the carpet,
but we hugged every night and fully meant it.
i don't think i will leave that house and i don't think that house will ever leave me.
i was sick and i remember you were gone and i remember i missed you and i remember climbing the stairs half mast to your bedroom and i remember crawling into your bed alone with blankets covering me from head to nose and i watched "the squid and the whale" in your bed and there was a whole lot of misery going on in that hour and a half and i missed you it ached i wanted my friend back i wanted my friend back i wanted my friend back and after the movie i went back into my bedroom and fell asleep listening to Mum.