the last time it was good it wasn’t this good. and my definition of good was always not as bad as yesterday, not as bad as that one time i couldn’t imagine it ever being worse. but this, this is 10 hours of sleep good. the other shoe could drop and it’s still better than you in your unweathered red wings with your laces tied tight catching snow flakes on your tongue while you drug me through the slush. i really shouldn’t even compare because this is giggle fits on a breezy sunday morning while the bedroom floods with sunlight. this is soaking instead of drowning, a warm whisper versus shouting.