Love you
more than
I know
you can, so
I step outside
my fears
and these lives
past doubts.
And this town
never felt so cold
underneath these boots
even during Fall
leaves crushing
and New York
air brushing a could be
perfect would be
evening.

You'd be the one
to wait for
and I cant tell
if home is still a place
I want to be,
it feels so alone
without you
and maybe this a phase
or maybe I'm right
in thinking this is it
and you are it
and that you might
one day be here
with me.

You made me feel
open
to a possibility
of comfort
(health security
peace privateness)
the things written
in vows, letters
from far away,
in whispers
under hazy morning
sunlight,
those kind of moments
I wish I could keep
hold of and only
with you.

Our love is a bad scene
of a movie,
passive lines, unsavory
characters
and this gaudy
bedroom lighting
wreck any idea
of realistic drama
and if the audience applauds
when the credits roll
only you
can take the blame.

Your "no reply"
in small text
pierces the summer night's
darkness through,
and that dim light
under my nose
might be what
emptiness truly looks like
in its most physical form.

And I'm looking
through the other-side
now of a cafe window
at a collection of asian tourists
joyfully wandering
up and down 18th street.
Do they know
I don't belong here,
ordering a 12 dollar cocktail
pretending to type behind
a laptop glow. Do they know
I don't belong here
and I am not scenery
and not a local,
in this country
I feel someplace else.

We were thinkin'
how fast the years fly
"two gone by quick"
but what's to come
and go
with speed
hopefully not
the next few
with you.