It still smells like human iron in your pool.
There's a crack in the concrete where the bullet stopped.
It still smells like human iron by the side of your pool, there's a stain.
I still can't find where that bullet went.

I always thought that your "love" of the higher life was overrated.
Nobody ever talked about how great it is to be rich as much as you did.
Even though you talked about it so quietly, most of the time.

You spoke a lot about Daisies.
I'm more of a Lillie type of person.

There are a lot of people in New York, Gatsby. Too many people in New York.
New York only needed you, Gatsby, but it looks like New York didn't want you anymore.
That's not sad though, is it?

Carraway's book is like gold.   I bookmarked eight of my favorite pages in it with yellow cigarettes.  I'm too afraid to smoke them.

When your old mansion was bought I expected to see you as a ghost in it,
you weren't there.
That green light across the bay isn't there anymore, it's red now.
I believe I'm sleeping in the same bedroom you once did.
You aren't one of those ghosts that haunt a house, you haunt a human concept of want.

I wish I'd never bought your house.
I'm going to tear this place down.  Along with Nick's old place next door.
The memories here in these empty, furniture filled rooms, are unbearable at best.

Of course they're not my memories, but I'd be a familiar person to you if you knew me.
I smash and break things, and then retreat back into my money and vast carelessness.

Farewell Jay Gatsby.

Careless people
In pinstriped suits and
Cocktail dresses.
Around is passed the
Inward ******
Wishing to arise.

Girls--
Golden Girls,
Fancy shoes on,
The heartbroken dance to
Speedy music,
Growing faster every spin,
Wanting to be looked at
The way every girl does.
They wonder,
"Will I be loved when I'm old and
Not beautiful?"

Guys--
Tonic doesn't work,
The green light leaves.
They dance with the girls,
But can't keep a promise.
All the bright precious things
Fade. They will never come back.

Fancy shirts and parties
Will not heal the broken.

So we beat on.
These were careless people,
Destined to fail.
These were drunken on the
Idea of love,
Wishing for more than
They were willing to give.
These were beautiful little fools.

Eyes will watch and see.

there are some kisses that I could have sworn
it would never end.
there are some hugs that I wish could stop time
if only I just squeeze the person tight enough.
there are some goodbyes I hope I'll never have to say,
there are eulogies that I don't want to hear
and there are songs that I don't ever want to end.

I'm agnostic but sometimes I pray
for the moon not to go down when I'm with you.
I beg for it to hold on for at least a few more hours
before dawn takes over but it never does.

if there's one thing I've learned it's:
no matter how much you beg, plead or promise
happiness is always fleeting from our fingertips.
happiness is never truly "yours",
it is simply just your turn to smile.

Ted made it rain for Robin,
but here I am trying to stop time for you.

The single green light,
of that lighthouse cries out tonight,
crying
alive with a exuberant shine,
yearning
and pulling a child from his swing,
closer
to that barely visible, minute and faraway siren call
swinging
and yet somehow, sometime, somewhere, the child begins,
falling
into
that might have been at the end of the dock.

Gatsby was in love;
completely infatuated
with another being

The way he looked at her
with his anxious eyes
exhibited a love that couldn't be greater
And
the words he spoke
emitted such fondness
for her rosy lips against his
as he whispered sweet stories
that he irresistibly imagined
of their future together

he fell so in love--
he fell so tragically and desperately
in l o v e--
he lost himself completely
and became absent
in his own consciousness
trusting false hopes,
refusing to let go of what would
never be his
and if this insanity is what they call
true love--
if this is what one experiences
when such passion takes over--
then I, too
have gone Gatsby for you.

No good comes from
Playing out conversations
Inside my head-- a broken record player

Baby, if this was a jumbled song, I had long since driven myself mad with the tune.

But no good comes from me reaching out to him. Not when the melody is stuck in my head, and my instinct is to selfishly hit repeat.

we smoked our cigarettes
and belted out car duets

never listened to any advice
figured trial and error would suffice

we ate past when we were full
and felt life's strange alluring pull

but we learned it was never enough
to sit back and relax and love

you can't repeat the past, Gatsby
I wish someone would have told me