they're thinking on you under the moonlight on a frigid night. their thoughts of you bloom into a wine stain on their lips that they rush to speak of. you are their best shared secret, they admire and dispise you all at the same time. they watch you from across the body of water that separates you, for their eyes cannot trace the roads that lead to your front door. the vision of those who you once knew falls directly on the tower across the way in your vacinitity. they evny it's height, they envy your proxy. the words of you are tossed against a backdrop of other words and all these things form sentences that don't quite make sense, but they do. they boom and shout and ripple out of their minds. they are going out of their minds for you. they're thinking of you, in the silent sun and they are not only warmed by their want, but their need and they are warmed by their absolute reasoning for only speaking of you, keeping things at bay, and never concreting actualities, because the fleeting possibilities of whomever you're becoming is easier to make up then experience, but they are thinking of you.