i'd be lying
if i said that any of the others meant so much to me-
it's always been you.
its you in the morning when i wake up, and try to forget you aren't here.
its you when i'm walking to work,
its you when i'm lying next to him,
its you when i can't fall asleep
its you when im dreaming.
i'd be lying if i said
i havent always loved you.
id be lying if i said i could go on just as well.
and i'll be crying
the day you leave again
because now i know
its been me too.
its been me when you were with her.
its been me in the back of your mind.
and it'll be you
and it'll be me
when we go back to our respective places on this earth
that just happen to be
thousands of miles apart.
it's you today.
how could i never find the words til now?
i love you.
don't leave me again.
please

merry holidays.

finally

tell me,
do you recognize me?
its been so long,
and god knows
i've grown.
i see you
crossing the room
with that same old grin.

oh
youre coming nearer
oh
youre eyes are still so-

just a new women
one who must have so recently
been just a little girl
just another conquest
just another pair of eyes
lips
breasts.

and i falter
because i know if you touch me again
like you did so many- so long-
i'll shrink down
to orginal size.

after the battle,
i painted stars in our bedroom*
no prayers
no pleas
no promises.
i painted stars in the room
where we slept and wrote and moved and loved.
and with ever stroke
i breathed your name
and saw your face.
after the battle, when there was nothing left
i recreated us.
after the battle,
i awaited your return, as i promised i would.
no sobs
no screams
no songs.
i waited,
for the war we created to be won or lost.

i always have scraps of the beginnings of poems in my mind, but i hardly ever finish or go on with them

after the battle, i painted stars in our bedroom

i hope i dont forget about this one.

what do you feel before you take massive, possibly life changing steps?
when you make a decision thats so major, and now alls thats lefts to dos is... do it?
and youre just waiting for it to happen? or just waiting for that day to come?
how do you feel?

today i feel nervous. excited.
im in a state of anticipation where what i think i want and what i know is right for me are messed up
in a state where i cant even tell what either of those are.
you know, i made a promise to myself that i would take a certain major step towards being who i am before high school is out.
and i wonder if thats a bad thing?
but it just so happens to be working out.
which is strange.

on another note.
i have a secret. and it fills me with so much joy and love and happiness that i can't even fathom telling anyone, because knowing, and knowing how great it will be if i dont spill it, is like a huge happy bubble.
i cant wait til it overflows and bursts and i spill out balloons and puppies and rainbows and cupcakes (-->emma!)

i hear in my mind, all this music

I don't know about the future, that's all stuff and nonsense.

I'm ready for winter. I'm ready for cozy, cold nights with cups of tea. I'm ready for running through snowbanks with you. I'm ready for ice skating, and sledding, and all that winter kid stuff that I feel I'll never grow out of. Snow forts and snow men and snow ball fights and snow falls.

I was at work yesteday, and the snow was coming down in
BIG
FAT
FLAKES

and it was beautiful. I would open up the window and just stare when I had no customers. It was wonderful.
I think people at work are mostly used to me being a little bit odd.

Snow is prettiest at night.

Dear boyfriend,

as long as we both want to have one more day together,

i think this will work out.

and im almost ready to tell you what i've been scared to these past two months, and put an end to what was keeping me closed off.
(and, no readers, i am not talking about telling him i love him. come on! you know me better than that!)

I love driving in the winter, downtown. When the christmas lights are all up and sparkling, and everyone is moving so quickly...

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS BOOKS!
why does no one believe me when i say that?

favourite wintery scents:

cinnamon

cookies
mint
cloves
the smell of a scarf after you come in the from the cold.

i love christmas shopping! any one wanna go with me sometime soon? my list keeps getting longer and longer... so much for being almost done...

christmas cookies are piling up already! i'm gonna have to start giving some away. yickes! cookie avalanche!

have a wonderful sunday everyone!

i dont want to be an advertisment.

even when all the voices are screaming, i hear your whisper above the crowd

i have a lot going on this week.
i guess im always complaining about being busy.

christmas is coming! is it sad, i only want books for christmas? =) answer? of course not.
i have most of my shopping done. and i've started my baking! gingerbread, and snickerdoodles so far. any easy cookie suggestions guys and girls?

I have vocal auditions for the school musical tomorrow. It's gonna be "Chicago" so, wish me luck on my alto notes! ( =S )
Wed i have dance auditions, right after giving blood, then off i go to the university, to see a play. then i work straight til next monday. ...yippee.

dear world, im angry owl city is popular now. is that spiteful of me?


They eat out

In restaurants we argue

over which of us will pay for your funeral.

though the real question is

whether or not I will make you immortal.

At that moment only I

can do it and so

I raise the magic fork
over the plate of beef fried rice

and plunge it into your heart.
There is a faint pop, a sizzle

and through your own split head

you rise up glowing;

the celing opens
a voice sings Love Is A Many

Splendoured Thing
you hang suspended above the city

in blue tights and a red cape,
your eyes flashing in unison.

The other diners regard you
some with awe, some only with bordom:

they cannot decide if you are a new weapon
or only a new advertisement.

As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.

- Margaret Atwood

i have a phobia of eating moldy bread.

Category?

Dear Ee:

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart

Words from Jordan:

I've been reading alot these last couple days. reading all sorts of things, things I should have read when I was a kid, things I shouldn't be reading until I'm old, things I shouldn't be reading since I'm a guy, things that have inspired me, things that have pissed me off, things that make sense but I don't agree with, things I don't understand at all, things that touch my heart.

Advice:
Love's tough. Wear a helmet.

Thought of the day:

men who read are tens - onehundred times more attractive then men who don't.

I don't understand:
Men today. You act like a jerk, then hold me and comfort me. Why.

Song of the day:
We are gonna be friends, by the white stripes

What you do
speaks so loud
that I cannot hear
what you say.

RW Emerson

this is why i live

"there are things you do because they feel right. and they may make no sense. and they may make no money. and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other, and to eat each others cooking and say it was good"

given the chance,

i'd swallow

every work and every look

that you've let slip

whole.

as it is,

i keep your kiss

in my back pockey.

my favourite little secret.

today, i want to

braid a ribbon

into my hair.

today i want to

laugh in your

stupid love sick face.

i hold the power

and i hold you in contempt today.

alright baby.

go ahead.

and have your temper tantrum.
im not your mother.
im not your babysitter.
so go on babe.

scream and cry

pout.

because i wont flinch

unless to

walk away

and leave you to you.

A philosophy assignment

There is no God. No purpose, no meaning, no collective truth.
Why don't we all kill ourselves? Why do we are a species, continue?

I don't think these are good enough reasons to kill ourselves! There is no collective truth, but I don't find that depressing. I find that freeing! No. I find that inspiring. If there is no collective truth, then there is only individual, subjective truth. And when individuals find a common truth or a common beauty among all the chaos that a god-less world just be, then it's all the more beautiful. Design is all very well and good, but beauty from chaos is... aweinspiring. And majestic. When you look at you friend and you both laugh because of something you thought but never said, and you see their smile, and the sun shifts and the atoms all aling just right and choices are decided which lead you up to this one moment of, 'oh your eyes' of being you, and here, and me, and you and me and this.

THIS IS WHY I LIVE

Thank you Intuition

My brain is spinning
from one
perfect[ly wrong]
kiss.

Shame on me.
I know this isn't love.
Shame on me.
I know the guilt is real.

But I don't want this to go away.
But I know this isn't the same to both of us.
But I know I'm leaving so much behind

No where to go but forward.

I'm following the signs.
[thank you so much intuition]

And the signs say for me to live my life.
The signs say I should explore my options.
I should learn to trust.

And that secrets are secrets for a reason.
That if it doesn't repeat, it's not meant to be.

So although he makes me

feel
angry and elated and breathless and

beyond anything.

I'm good again.

I feel like a bird who's re-learning how to sing

my life and my heart are on fire
and im not sure what the next step is.

A response I wrote long ago to Bev's blog re: high school relationships.


Bev, I'm afraid I must disagree. High school relationships are not pointless.
I think high school is such a difficult and often sad time, that we need to get as much joy from it as possible.
I think that the more we learn and practise love, the better it will be and the more ready for it we will be when we find that right person.
And besides, how will we know the right one if we don't know the wrong ones?
I'm in a highschool relationship right now. I'm happy with him in a way that I was not before. Which is neither to say that I was not happy before, or that should things end, I'll never be happy again. The trick is keeping your grasp of reality with you at all times. On that note, I would not even say that I'm in love with him, or have even ever truly been in love with anyone.
Each relationship is differnt. Each person is different, and we ourselves are everchanging individuals. I know more about myself as time goes on and as each lover and friend comes and goes; who I am, what I want, what I need out of life, and who fits with me and where I'm going.
Relationships are about having this partnership. This (mostly) united front against the evils of the world. It's about having support. It's about giving it. Someone you can call and tell them all the things that went wrong that day, and not worry about them judging you. Some you run to, to tell them you got the part and failed the test.
Some who'll understand, or at least try. Someone who'll pick up and love the little things about you that you never even noticed yourself
[ I hold my cigarettes like a pencil, and bit my lip when I'm nervous ]
It's about having that feeling that something just works.
What;s wrong with finding happiness with someone at a young age? Everything must end, yes, but why should the future prevent a kind of joy that is so priceless now?
I can't let my fear or my assumptions of the future control my life now.
"there's no time like the present"
no, there's no time BUT the present.
The only time that exists is now.
And now?
I'm very, happy.

I hate homework

have a great day kids

These are a few of my favourite things

www.chordbook.com
wicked awesome site for people who are learing guitar and who, like me, suck at reading tabs. Lots of neato options on here. Check it out!

Monopoly at McDonalds
cause after all, we all of us like money right?


Vocal Jazz
and the "z" in this font! oolala!


The Millennium Libray
downtown! it's huge and quiet and full of books! lots of natural lighting, and i find i get loads of work done there


My new alarm clock
it plays my iPod for me in the morning! HELLA DANK!


The new building at my school!
it's so new and large! at long last, I do not have to walk through the freezing minus a million cold to get from class to class! and free Wireless? can i get a HEYYA?


Gold
Gold or yellow seem to be the new "it" colours for me lately. Paired with orange/red, i think its the perfect colour scheme for fall in this dark cold city.


Zombie Movies
I love zombies movies as much as the next man-GIRL! or more. Who doesn't enjoy some good zombie rampage and carnage? Haven't seen Zombieland yet. WANT TO!

I want ownership
with none of the responsibilties.
i guess i'm weak. i guess i'm wrong. i guess i'm lazy. i guess i'm bad.
but i want what i want
and i need what i need
and you are an obligation
clawing at my door.
am i supposed to weep?
fall to my knees
when you say the word love
after handfulls of ecstasy?
no.
and i do not want
to clean up the messes you feel
i ought to.
ought.
duty?
no.
that's not me. not anymore.

just a little comic

to lighten the mood.

Top 4 favourite movies (for right now)

1) Amelie
A lovely french tale, of life and passion and joy.
This is number one for a reason. Everyone needs to see this film at least once. I promise, it will change your life.

2) Sabrina

This is number two by chancel; was just where i remembered. a sweet story of a girl who find herself in paris, and returns back to the place where she lived, and discovers that love isn't always where you want it or thought it to be.

3) City of Angels

Oh my gosh. One of my favourite romance movies ever. Ever. Possibly because I have the biggest crush EVER on young Nicholas Cage. Hot damn.

4) Singing in the Rain

Gene Kelly, Donald O'Conner, Debbie Reynolds. Where is there room to go wrong? A fantastic musical.

September 12th

There is an art to you and me.
You make promises, while I sit and wait.
Sound familiar dear?
It should, because it's happened so many times, I've lost count.

And today, I sat in the grass,
still wet and cold,
watching the planes take off.

One of them carries you away
into a world where I can only dream of.
Into a world I can barely touch.

I miss you.
I hate you.
I love you.

Bar Song Six

Sitting in Jack's bar that night, next to Don. His head ducked down, eyes fixed on his drink.
A kid. He had hit a kid. A little boy, no older than his Joey.
Don was the one to call the hospital. He had his cell phone out already- sending his wife a dirty text message.
The ambulance arrived in an attack of light and sound. George stll, and will continue to for a long time to come, see those spinning red and blue lights when he closed his eyes.
The went to the ER, and was found to have two seperate breaks on his left leg, as well as a large collection of cuts and bruises on his side, back, and face, as well as a second degree concusion.
"An almost comical amount of damage for such a small collision" George thought to himself, with no humor.
This thought he followed with a dreaing of the beer in his right hand.
He set it down. It made a sad, empty 'clunk' as it made contact with the counter. He ordered another one.
This was one's sound was much better, and fuller.

George got home late, quite late, but not drunk. He was a man who could hold his liquor.
The house was dark and silent, so he picked his way carefully to the bathroom.
Where he realized he had forgotten to buy toliet paper after all. Shit.
He made do with kleenex.

He crawled gently into bed, so as not to wake Mary. He looked at her blonde, soft hair, and her slowly rising and falling back. Since when was she wearing her hair short like that?

George remembers what is was like to live alone. He remembers cooking for himself. He remembers losing his key. He remembers the size, or lack there of, of his perfectly square apartment. It was like living in a giant cube. He remembers hating the smell of the building.
He remembers falling asleep on the couch, because his bed was just too big and empty.
He remembers when Mary moved in, and how he loved falling asleep knowing she was there. He remembers enjoying how she would smile and sigh in her sleep exactly 2.3 seconds before she rolled over, and how it made him feel like a hero to keep her warm when she was shivering. He remembers the safety of knowing she'd still be there when he woke up.

He remembers all of that.
What he doesn't remember is when he stopped loving it, or why.

George watched her sleeping for a few minutes longer, and then, with a sigh barely preceptable to even the most careful of listeners, he turned his back to her, and went to sleep.

Too many days, I've been afraid of love, love, love, love, love

I was lying on my floor today
felling the rough

hardwood
on my back and bare shoulders.
You are the celing above me.
You are the vent near my head.
I am an area rug

with eyes.
I am a lump a bump a
girl who won't jump
and it's raining cats and dogs
right outside my window
as this hump this bump
rolls to examine
a scratchy bit of the floor.
It's August, can't you come out to play?
I promise to be good,
promise to be-
bump
We could stay in the shade-
Lump
We could not saying anything at all
We could be as silent as
the shade
As the rug, as the celing.

 IT IS NEVER TOO LATE
TO BE WHAT YOU
MIGHT HAVE
BEEN
- George Elliot

When a heart breaks, it is not a sudden, defined, SNAP; a clean break into two neat pieces.

No.

It's a gradual flaking and chipping.

And some flakes get lost.

And some are never found, so that when you try to put it all  together again, and start anew, there will always

always

be a little something, off,

everytime.

Susan Minot

"I wanted a life beside him,
he handed me my coat"

"I could eat tin, I'm so
hungry and light.
Could eat these words
I write"

Simply, you make this all

simple.

So I can lay my weapons

at your feet.

Which you stare at

but do not see

for the dance they

could be.

Would I that I could

hide them under my bed.

My sarcasm, my coldness,

My realism, my sexuality

my need for

definition.

My need to always know

who what why when

more.

I am as a part of you
as your pinky nail

and as forgotten.

as easily misplaced.

you trim me

maintain me

neglect me
then cut me down again

when i get too long

and large and

in the way

turn your face to the sun

i love sunflowers.
because they always face the sun.
Even when the clouds are out, they still know where it is.

And that's inspiring.


Side note:
Everyone's making a big deal over the lists.
Here's my final say on them.
I'm disappointed in myself for not getting into a better group.
I'm proud of the people who did.
I'm ready to make this year and my group, fantastic.
And I just wish that everyone else would take the same stance as me.
The end.





School has been so busy lately. But this year is a good year.

I'm sorry my blogs have been lacking in pictures. I'll make up for it later. Although I do say that an awful lot, don't I?

I'm feeling really content right now. I think I'll call my boy and ask him if he wants to go for a pointless drive.
 
I like who we are, when we drive in your car.

Hello everyone!
I'm posting from my best friend's laptop. I'm having issues getting over the weirdness of the keyboard.

Anywho, as promised, although very, very late, here is my list of summer highlights!!

Camp!
This year I spent two weeks at International Music Camp. Huzzah!
First week was nothing but Drama. Theater. Play writing.

At one point during the week, I made one of my guy friends laughed until he drooled.
During the final evening of drama week, I sat in the grass with said friend, and we watched the sun set.
I recieved a Playwriting award. I cried.

Second week, Choir week.
Dustin and I lay in the grass and napped while some kids played bluegrass off in the distance
Joseph and I singing together in his private practise room. Phantom of the Opera. Time to say Goodbye.
Walking back after private lessons, through the forest. Music drifting around me. Random songs and bits of classical music. The birch trees swooshing at me.

Jordan
He took me for dinner. He changed a tire. He got his hands dirty.
We walked in a wheat field.
He held my hand.

General?
Swimming with Steven.
Watching the sunrise by myself.
A day of adventure with Trish and Chloe.
Countless walks for coffee.
Sleeping in til 2pm!
Being barefoot

School tomorrow.

Which means summer is leaving.

Today, it is raining out.
I think I'm fine with that.
I've made my peace with summer. Shook it's hand and kissed it goodbye. We are the best of friends every year, and I know next year will be no different.

Tomorrow I'll post something lovely and long, including a list of my summer highlights, pictures and all.

For now, I have school to get ready for. A room to clean. Tea to make. Walks to be had. People to be chatted with.
So long, farewell
etc
goodbye

Dear World,

Dear World,

HE LIKES ME!

We went for coffee. Then I helped him run errands.
Then we went to Oak Bluff, the small municpality outside the city where he lives.
"My aunt lives there. My grandmother there. The Morrisons there. That's where I went to school. There's my dad working in the fields there. That's where I  had my first job, there's where my mom works."
We went to a wheat field. We sat in the box of his pickup. We were silent. Nothing needed to be said.
The world was quiet. The wind was blowing the wheat. The crickets were singing.
I laughed because we had sparkles on our fingers. I smeared it on his face. He laughed and smeared mine.
We walked up to the edge of the field.
"Reckon' it's wet?"
"Probably."
"Reckon I care?"
"From the why you're looking at it? No."
The other day at the beach, we ran head first into the water, only to find it freezing.
This time, we walked into the field carefully. The ground was dry as you please.
We went a ways in. We were laughing. He showed me how to eat the wheat stalkes that are almost ready.
Our laughter echo'd out across the fields and into places beyond us.
Silence suited us just as well as speaking did.
World, I found in this one spot, the place I belong.

He texted me afterwards.
"I had alot of fun today. We should make a real date next time. Not that this improvising isn't fun and all..."
"I'd like that a lot :)"

I think you're just swell

August Third:

you can't decide
to turn your back
or to reach out.
So
goodbye.
I'm not the one to shirk desicions
of this nature.
You and I know me.
I love a challenge
but I'm not stupid.
I know a hopeless case
when it hopelessly sways in front of me.

I miss the ocean
really, I do.
Cups of coffee
reading books
writing.
Staring out and out forever

See you laying in the sun
and I can't beat around the bush.
You, good sir,
are a spoonfull of sugar.
There's no reason now to hide.
You're safe and I'm safe, and you're more than just
a dream in my head.
My fingertips brushed your skin briefly-
the most contact we've had thus far-
and rejoice at the feeling of the youness of you;
of the fact that they have not gone straight through you
like a ghost.
I cannot recall when I last felt this way.
I guess,
you'll just have to excuse me today,
because I can no longer beat around the bush good sir.

Come home
'cause nothing feels quite right
nothing feels the same
Nothing doesn't remind me of you.
What's left in this prairie town,
besides the memories?
Down by the river, you fell to the ground
and On the side street, I fell for you
because you lifted me
right off my feet, and I haven't stopped spinning yet.
so won't you come back to me?
Come, I'll make it home,
it'll be okay.
This prairie town misses your sweet face, and so do I.
Your sweet face, and large hands, and bent nose.

Knowing I am no longer the object
of his affection
[fixation]
makes the air a little cleaner.
My legs relax themselves into the mattress,
it's good to be new and freed.
To be young, with so many better and worse than him to come.
To be alone in this room, which messy though it is, is mine.
Is safe.
Never realized how solid these four walls could be.
How much I love the mess and the green.
I think I need a plant.

Knowing all this, I think I'll just get some sleep for now.
Maybe say a quiet thank you
to whomever or whatever is listening,
and then let the silence of
2am take me where I ought to be.

Goodnight.

have a great day

Thoughts up a tree

Upside down,
I find you most
compelling

as you stroke my nose
and call me
your little one.

And we take a tumble
into the
all forgiving grass

This weekend we are in love, and I'd have it no other way.

Later is for later.

Tonight I'll let you compell me.
Tonight
maybe I'll be upside down as well,

less this becomes
tomorrow, and nothing but
silent stillshots.

So catch me.
Catch me, I'm a wild child.
Catch me, I'm wildly yours.

Here Comes The Sun

And I say, it's alright.


What's going on with me? I know I haven't written in a long, long time.


I've been on a few dates with this guy, let's call him...... J.
I can't seem to wrap my head around him.
He's fun and romantic. He makes me laugh. He yells. He's serious. He has both feet on the ground. He holds doors open for me, pulls out chairs.
I like him.
You know that feeling, when you look at someone, and suddenly, you're inexplicably, completely elated?
Yeah. I get that from him.

Love? Love love love love love love love.
Love.
I don't understand that word right now.

Love does not come in a box.
There is no preconspetion.
No constrictions or confides to it.

Love isn't something you can ask for and recieve.
Love can't be given with rules.
Love can't be requested in a size five, canary yellow.

It's not that someone comes to you, with a box
and you open it;
Oh! It's exactly what I wanted!
Look, it highlights the colour of my eyes!

It's not that you can wear it a while, and then pack it up because it doesn't suit you any longer.
Pack it up, and put it back in it's box, and give it away again.
Or store it under your bed, waiting for a cold and rainy day when you need it again.

Love isn't like that.

But while I can tell you with some confidence what love is not,
I cannot tell you exactly what it is.





Though, I'm no longer fearless
I'm no longer reduced to
that shaking sniviling child you had me.
Let me see this clearly;
am I a novelty?
A wild flower that catches your eye,
you pluck and take with you,
until you reach where wild flowers grow rampent? And I am no longer special?
Or, until we reach the city,
where I seem odd and young and foolish and decidedly out of place.
My large hair, changing in your opinion only;
Wild and careless and untamed at first
now is messy and difficult.
It was always all those things.
So discet me, to my smallest parts
and try to know what you are in for.
But once you do, I'll become nothing but
my various bits and pieces.
An arm, a leg
absent minded, loud
a toenail,
sensitive.
What now?

1,

2,

3,

jump

I daydream too much.

















Or not enough

I'm back

I can't see why

everytime you fall
it's my job to catch.
When I fall
Where are you?

I'm seeing a pattern
as I shift through the ruins
of lovers past.

I want you to love me
when you're sober.
I want to be loved for
who I am, now how I make
you feel.

I can do the math
but math can't figure
what's in your heart, or mine.

Something inside me tells me
sober love is a different breed.
One who's contact has been limited.
One who I fear,
though loathe the alternative.

Which will win I wonder?
Fear or hate?
I can train the hate, the distaste from me.
But is that really

how it should be?

I'm a new soul- no.
No, I'm an old soul
with a new spirit.
I'm a young girl
I'm a small
to mid sized city girl
I'm a women with a left over lover history.
I've got big dreams
and I've got a heartbeat
so tell me why I stay here
in this state.
I'm an odd child, and I
have a strange sense of how to
live this life.

Pig Song - Margaret Atwood

This is what you changed me to
a greypink vegetable with slug

eyes, buttok

incarnate, speading like a slow turnip,

a skin you stuff so you may feed
in your turn, a stinking wart
of flesh, a large tuber
of blood which munches
and bloats. Very well then. Meanwhile

I have the sky, which is only half
caged, I have my weed corners,
I keep myself busy, singing
my song of roots and noses,

my sog of dung. Madame,
this song offendes you, these grunts
which you find oppressively sexual,
mistaking simple greed for lust.

I am yours. If you feed me garbage,
I will sing a song of garbage.
This is a hymn.

The burdick theater will always feel like home to me. The catwalks, the wings, backstage, basement. The musty smell mixing with the uncommon smell of cool air. The squeek of certain chairs, the movable walls

I watched your eyes
shift and sparkle and change
grean to grey to blue

with my words
and our stolen subtle touches.

Now I close my own and recall
the snowflake raindrops
dancing in time to our music,

resting finally, softly, on
your pink cheeks and my warm lips
before melting away

to something more pure.
Absorbed by our words.
I remember you lent me your gloves
though your hands shook as much as mine.

You smiled at me
and I smiled into my coffee.
You shifted green and closer, or must have,
because I could feel

the heat of your knee
through four layers of fake skin.