I was going to write about something, something depressing, something maybe about drugs and the complexities behind numbing of emotions but

I was looking out my window and thinking about how it would feel
like to live by the windowsill, if the whole world is this windowsill.
Waking up at 8am because the sunlight hits your face,
Feeling the crisp cold morning outside the window through the condensation of the glass, because you and I were breathing extra last night.

I entertained myself with the petty lives of birds. Ah! Birds! I exclaimed with some degree of Schadenfreude as I peered out of the crack of the litted window
to the outside world, two seagulls fighting each other over some disposed curry chips.
These birds living their insignificant lives, oblivious, I thought to myself, with this overpowering sense of superiority over petty nature.
Then I looked over to you.

Your blonde almost non existent eyelashes fluttering while you sleep into oblivion,
Do you know you grind your teeth when you sleep, and when you pay attention to something with such deep intent.
You’re so oblivious of these little habits that make me like you more.
You probably don’t understand why I write so little about you, you probably don’t care either because
You are so alarmingly unromantic, I mean, you won’t even watch American Beauty with me, but you’re so loving, that when we embrace I can feel this novel state of tenderness which I’ve never experienced, which erases every poignant reminder of the passing of time when I am with you.
I don’t write about you because I don’t have to live in poems when I’m with you.

Perhaps the reason I could remember your favorite Subway combination is because I love you,
I could even recite it backwards.

You have these long long arms so gangly that your brothers laugh and remarked that when you move, 80’s jingle music plays to the beat of your limbs.
I can’t think straight when you move, you drive me crazy, these arms have me in a headlock of contentment.

This year I began to cry frequently. I’m changing and I feel this darkness enveloping the whole of me.
You don’t understand this, but I could see this look upon your face,
Of confusion and apologies from something that you didn’t create.
Here you are, hugging me from behind making bird noises, trying to make me laugh
Between my cries.
You screech and scream but it’s okay if you don’t understand,
Because you said cheering me up is your favorite thing to do.

This year I am alone often because I have a passionate dread for human interaction. You come upstairs with me and dive into this void of alone-ness with me because you want to.
I want to live in the quiet when we are alone together,
Staying idle together, this thought is so ideal.

That is my window sill.

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