Fourth

When the inspiration comes around, I pack it up and move on with my life. My love follows in an irridescent notebook, and my heart is chained to a letter I never meant to keep from a winter's past. Here and there, my body is linked to those I never intended to meet; all will never keep in touch. For the sake of them, myself and my ego. That winter was tough. Hot chocolate stains captured in the room; alongside muddy animal prints I tried denying. It's not like they scared me;

more like I scared myself into thinking I'd have to pack up again and leave such a huge stain behind for the next wanderer..