Later, still in love and a little drunk

[RiverNotch]

I walk your old neighbourhood.
A child skips towards the station
singing under her breath.
Buds swell on bare branches.
 
Over layers of fact, no matter
what shadows live at the back
of flesh, this place once held you.
Your body belonged here, your face.
 
 



("I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love and a little drunk."  -Atticus)

I first read this, and I was captured. Revisiting, and still captured. Don't really have much of substance to add, other than I only wish I could write something this pure.