debbie

“So, write something.” she said, tossing her book to the couch and walking to the kitchen, her hips swaying like I’d remembered in college. Her. The same like i had remembered. The same laugh, the same eyes, the same hips, the same beauty i wanted to swim and drown in forever. The same frustration with the silly idea that the muse was ever gone. I’ll write about you. I’ll write about the way the coffee steam floats while dogs bark. I’ll write about the way you smell like the most delicious cigarette. I’ll write about what we’re going to do and what we don’t care about. I’ll write about how we drink. I’ll write about how we make love. I’ll write. I’ll play the guitar. I’ll sing. All you have to do is sit right there.