my neighbor's window. if you look closely you can see reflections of the rain.
and this is where it ends. on a rainy day with christmas lights still twinkling, with no resolutions to change who i am. i dream in color and i don't always answer the phone. i will take those things with me into the new year, and leave behind who knows what. i still navigate by the stars.
the year fades away and will not return. she stands in the doorway, open to the cold wet day, to the light of midafternoon, and watches. leaves are plastered to the sky. she has wielded an almost empty pen for months, though she still knows the secret art of storytelling, and she has taken to wearing too much gray, too much black, too much sadness and anger. she needs to cut her hair.
but. she has sparklers waiting for darkness to drop, and matches, and she is counting backwards from 10. she is almost there.