Because in all of my chaos,
in all of my destruction,
she’s given me a place to feel safe.

She’s given me a sanctuary.

For the first time this year, I smiled.

We walked the streets to the shore,
our feet filled with sand.
We are displaced but comfortable,
your arms wrapped around me.

We hummed songs from the 80s,
under the glow of the moonlight.
We are everywhere at once,
I don't ever want to leave this island.

We’re all broken.

It’s a ******* game.

A ******* puzzle.

It’s a game of finding the right person
whose broken pieces fit with yours.

You are my retreat.
You are my escape.

You are the one thing that takes me away
from all the ******* in life.

You saved me from me.

I want more for you than I do for myself.
with you, parts of me felt whole.

with you, parts of me felt home.

And now I’m a body.

You have the happiest smile,
she said.

And when I see it,

I can’t help but to smile too.

But you have the saddest eyes,
she said.
Saddest I’ve ever seen.

Eyes like I’m staring Death right in the face.


Then I asked her,
where do you want to eat for dinner?

Let's dance again to Frank Sinatra's 'Fly Me To The Moon'
and celebrate this beautiful accident.
Because what I have right now with you,
I don't ******* want it with anyone else.

Some days I wish I could brag
what you meant to me to the world.

How special you are.

How infinite you are.

But most days I just feel selfish,

like you’re a secret I should keep.

I’m a directionless lightning

and you were the lightning rod
on a stormy night.



I’m a restless soul

and you were the song

that helps me sleep.



I’m a lost ship

and you were the lighthouse

on a sea of strangers.



I’m a nervous wreck

and you were the white pills

inside the orange bottle that calms me.



I’m always wrong about everything

but you were the only thing I got right.

I’d sing you to sleep even if I’m out of key.

I’d sing you to sleep even if my voice keeps cracking.

I know I don’t have much,

but I’d give my life for you in a heartbeat.

Christmas eve, 

alone in a hotel room, 

W 8th street.
It's freezing here,

******* it's freezing here.

You're a million miles away

and I wouldn't call it homesick

but Jesus Christ

I keep seeing your face
on the streets of this city.

You're a ghost.

I'm coming home soon.

I like you.

I like you like how Van Gogh

cut his ear off and gave it to his *****.

I like you.

A cold long drive in December from California to Nevada

4 gas stations,
3 empty cups (coffee)

2 diners,

1 long and dusty road,
and a heart filled with bacon grease and regrets.