Just don’t hold anything against me. Unless you decide to be with me. You left the room with my candles still burning and your thoughts yet mourning. I put on your smell and lit a cigarette. I didn’t want to let us both go to waste. Linger on. Fragments. It was all so so nigh but we played each other goodbye. Rudely honest. Full Moon. Half Life. Sleepless hours. Only lights. There was the kind of shit from our fragmented past that we kept behind our teeth. We guarded it, not to interfere with the totality of our common present.

Richard Avedon, The Comforts