tonight i am breathing into the shape of the bed around me, into the hollows and crooks of my own skin. tonight i am looking through the frame of the world that i give it, the black lines i have drawn around things. sometimes i think i forget what is important and then wake steadier because i have never known. these are the last few days of this waiting, the last few days of this two monthed, nine weeked space i have made, and i wonder if i am satisifed. i wonder if the wholeness i feel will be found again later, in the nook at the front of the stairs where i found that coin once, where i curled in against the shape of my childhood and slept. i wonder if these are all skins i can shed and sew, i can fashion into the shapes i might want now and later. i wonder what it will feel like when this absence is made real with its ending, in the awkward moments of some final waiting, the rattle of breathing as it fills and leaves my lungs, the shape that eyes make, found on the floor. i wonder if wanting things could ever be wrong. if in wanting, we make absence.