...it's enough to make me cry...

maybe its a dream and if I scream

Lately it's soft moments in lush parks, Mondays in Christie Pits. Lying on a picnic table we're high up, and high. Everything else falls outside the realm of our gaze. The inside of my right shoulder is thankful for your attentions, while I'm just thankful for you. Hours later, a reminder from the stowaway aphid on my left ankle has me corner-mouth smiling.

it will burst at the seams

Speaking of stowaways, the white butterfly that found itself floating around the platform of Sheppard Station had me stopped in my tracks, watching to see if it would find it's way onto a train. After several minutes, I was reminded of my impending exam and the train approaching, doors opening, I walked on.

this whole place will fall to pieces

Somehow, a friendship drifted away from me. Drifted, or took deliberate steps away. I can never make up my mind for certain, but the empty space is there nonetheless, small but potent like her.

and then they'd say...

It's only when I'm away that I'm guarded, and worry about the finite nature of things. But with you and close, I'm only thinking of being with you and close.

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I'm uncertain where the excessive emotion is coming from. Maybe it's the chemicals, I think this was on the side of the box. Side effects, take note of them next time. It could be 5 hours of listening to Jack Johnson though, that too would do the trick. So absurd, all of it.