dropping every vile line I needed,
I needed to keep you at a distance,
for a year.

from what little I remember,
I said too much.
from what little I wanted,
I gave up too much.

delaying the inevitable isn't working,
even though I want it to.
vain to the point of forgetting, all the
little lies I tell myself to stay sane.
in the very best way I couldn't do it,
nobody is worth feeling for again.

even you.

doesn't this mean I should give up?
even when I have before?
visiting your living room,
leaving flannels by your bed.
if only I could stick with my denials.
never admitting what's left unsaid.

I've spelled it out.

when I was younger and fresher,
a little less lost,
and could still see straight,
over the wall I built to keep everyone out.

I spelled it out.

I could still see you on the other side.
and thought about letting you in.

doesn't it seem scary to you?
everything I know would change
very few people know this
looking at you from across the room
I imagine I am by your side
never imagining it could ever happen

no more.
no more coming of age indie movies.
no more love stories, love songs.
no more wanting what I can't have.

there used to be a time,
when my doubts would come bursting into my life, loud and unmistakeable.

and now when I crawl into bed at night,
I sometimes notice them there;
sleeping soundly, because I'm not.
lying peaceful, dormant.
accepted and tucked in.
because I'm not.

I could embrace them.
and still be alone.
or I could kick them to the curb;
and disappear.

no more.
no more summer nights without a care.
no more night walks without a jacket.
no more comfort, no more rest.

my doubts will stay sleeping,
so long as I don't.

after a day in bed,
an indie film.

a glass of captain morgan on ice,
or three.

we discussed film theory
on the porch.
cigarettes in hand.

I'm willing to admit that I am lonely.
maybe that's what today has been about.

isn't it so much an easier form of torture,
to wholly love those who'll you'll never meet, never know,
but may fully deserve?

after years alone,
you can get used to it.

we find ways to cope,
we get high in bed alone.

I want to be immortal.
I want to dance to old records.
I want to be half dead and feel alive.
with someone I haven't met yet.

I'm willing to admit that I am lonely.
I'm willing to admit that I may die alone.

it may not be somewhere as far or exotic as Ithaca
and it turns out that a new life is never anything different than your life, except now.

the sounds of the city are just as independent as they were for you.
just a little closer to home.
and my ***** window pane is just the same as yours,
the beer cans in my driveway are just as empty and full of memories
a little bit later
but I'm a little bit younger
and still full of potential, I hope.

it doesn't feel like my jealous sophomore soul,
but rather a home.

it's not often now I wonder what could have been.
growing up is somewhat like growing into the notion that you will never have exactly what you are jealous of.
but you can always come close.

he bit me and
left a mark on the throat
I had been singing with

every brush of my hair to my shoulder
is a reminder of a stain I can't brush away

a lingering fog has hit campus
and I wonder what kind of old woman I will grow into.