everything about our lives has become different. but lying side by side on the strange mattress, water in an unfamiliar glass at my hand, weird city noises outside the fire escape, all i can think of is how i wish for nothing more than to be ten inches closer to him. what is the sense that is intactile, that registers no sound or visual impression but brigdes the gap that exists between two people in a space? the knowing when someone is near. why is there temptation intrinsic to that slightest perception of body heat- two people just close enough together that even with your eyes closed, you can know that someone else's skin is near yours? wanting to verify through more reliable and frequently exercised senses that you are not alone. wanting to touch someone and not being entirely sure why...the torture of wanting something so small (ten inches of space!) but so impossible. until sleep finally gets the better of me and i pass out, i just want to feel all of that heat with not a single attendant complication. no apology, no noise, no waking anyone up. no rediscovery. just to feel more of that radiant heat- to feel it, and to become in that instant utterly, unabashedly, hangover-inducingly drunk on it.

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one of my professors says that it sometimes seems as though i'm tripping over the big words that i use. i say that i'm tripping over a hell of a lot more than just words.