the same taste

Listening party for Clarice Jensen’s

In holiday clothing, out of the great darkness

Near-silent on the couch

You sniffled a bit

Halfway through,

You said, through tears, that this album tasted like powdered sugar snow.

I said, “oh”,

Knowing that you’ve told me multiple times that that’s what my voice, my laugh taste like to you, and it’s part of what drew you to me in the first place

And then you said, “…and asphalt at night.”

And I wept with you,

Quietly, 

Apart from you,

For the rest of the album.

It’s a beautiful record.