Thoughts of a Quiet Girl

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I dreamt about you last night. You were sitting on my windowsill, leaning out the window, watching out the window, watching how the traffic drove by, down there, at the bottom.

We were talking about everything and nothing. I smiled. Your counter-smile reached your eyes. Somewhere between everywhere and nothing you took my hand in yours. You held it so delicately, like something fragile and easy to break. You held my fingers so softly. It was easy. It was right.

Later on I kissed you. Your lips were dry, but sweet nonetheless. I kissed you again. You smiled. I smiled. And then we kissed some more.

Needless to say but I cried when I woke up. 'Cause darling, our lives have never been that easy, that smooth. We live like in a hurricane, too fast and too devastatingly crushing to be able to just be- like the you and the me, in that dream- to just be smiling, holding hands, and kissing, softly.