I have a hundred days before I send my favorite boy away on a plane.
My ribcage feels like collapsing from my expanding heart. This is the kind of grief that I will never have the time to prepare for.
99, 09 June 2010
Today, I realized that everything is getting smaller except my heart.
What is the sound of a heart breaking?
98, 10 June 2010
Outside your office window, the streets glisten like silver. Will you forget the way the streetlights reflect the wetness of the pavement once you arrive in that foreign country?
If it rains in your country, remember that day you took my hand for the first time. Remember the blue dress I was wearing. Remember when my umbrella broke and you had to get out of your office to take me to mine.
Remember the rain in this country and this girl, who has no one to share her big umbrella.
97, 11 June 2010
Before we slept at 1 in the morning, I told you that I was a cartographer except that I was blind; The only way I can map your face is to press my lips to your skin.
97 days from now, I will begin another count to the day I can hold your hand and kiss your face again.