12.39, say the white figures on the lower right-hand side of the screen. i haven’t been awake and alone with my thoughts for...years, it seems. how it brings me back to those late nights at my desk in front of the open window. clear cold air outside. the moon stalking her solitary way through the dark grey jagged clouds. glasgow of my heart all around. mika’s falsetto keeping the night’s high still fresh. most often drops of damp on my lashes and hair. mirror me staring back at her outside self. which of us is the most real, i wonder; that girl with the slightly smudged eye make-up and pale skin, i don’t feel the way a girl like that should feel at all.
emerald green wool coat and black scarf tossed carelessly on the bed. earrings in a disco jumble on bedside table and the soft lamplight to cast forgiving shadows over them all. were you happier then than you are now, or was it just a hurried riot of snatched emotion, everything to be tasted and left in a few quick months because you always had the end in mind.
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