Air of December

I remember sitting in the diminutive apartment outside of "college town" that you worked so hard to maintain. We had broken up, and had been apart for almost a year. I, with the bohemians and shadows on the bad side of campus, and you, with the pizza delivery crowd and the highly intelligent people who might as well have been aliens as far as I was concerned. We hadn't spoken for almost the whole year we were apart, and it seemed to cost you something very dear to you to even look at me now. What was I doing here? It was my birthday. I had a boyfriend. It wasn't you. But it always came back to this. I was (and still am) less of a person when we're apart. When I called, you seemed uncomfortable with my request to talk, but then you invited me out for dinner, and after dinner, you invited me home to talk. So, there I sat, uncomfortably, with the only person in the world that I could really be comfortable with.

Thursday afternoon you cast a shadow 'round my room. The breeze moved the curtains and lifted my perfume into the air, and danced with lazy curls in your hair. The sun was in the sky like pink champagne and it glistened in your eyes all day. I remember you put a chill across my face like the air of December. I swear I remember it that way. I swear I remember it that way.

The words to that song still go around and around in my head whenever I look at you in the mornings. It was playing that night when we came back to your place after my birthday dinner. The CD player must have been on replay, because every time the music made its way into my conscious mind, that song was on. I'm sure that we didn't listen to the same song all night, it's just that I only noticed when I heard that line.

I remember you put a chill across my face like the air of December. I swear I remember it that way. I swear I remember it that way.

It seemed to me then to be hopelessly romantic, filled with longing and desire. A romance lost. And I didn't want that for us. I wanted to be with you. And I knew that you wanted to be with me. But there was always something to drive us apart. My band. Your friends. Our parents. Stephanie. (That fucking bitch. Sorry--relapse.)

There were times when I felt that I wasn't good enough for you. Times when I thought you weren't good enough for me. But, again, it always came back to being half of what I am without you. I need you like I need air, food, life.

You stood by the lake. I wanted to take you for granted. The grass was thin and high. The water mirrored tiny sparkles to the sky. The sun was in the sky like pink champagne, and it glistened in your eyes all day. I remember you put a chill across my face like the air of December. I swear I remember it that way. I swear I remember it that way.

We didn't talk most of the night. I'm not sure what we did. It seemed like endless hours that we just sat and looked at each other. The recriminations, the sadness, the anger, hurt. It was all still there. And yet, it just didn't seem to matter. We were together, and even if we were together and fighting, it was better than apart and partying. We came to some understanding that night. Some things we never discussed, and I doubt if they ever will be. And that's okay with me. As long as I can find that lake.

Where are you now? In the by-myself mornings the birds windchime. The treelimbs crackle and the sunshine climbs up the sky like pink champagne that glistens in your eyes all day. I remember you put a chill across my face like the air of December. I swear I remember it that way. I swear I remember it that way. Where are you now?