Aug 2015
Tonight I miss the Bronx,
I want to feel the cold east wind on my face
And have him pull my cold hand into his jacket pocket
That was my home,
He was my home
I want to hear the screeching of the halting 2 train in distnace as he slides between my legs
I want to feel the cold east wind on my face
And have him pull my cold hand into his jacket pocket
That was my home,
He was my home
I want to hear the screeching of the halting 2 train in distnace as he slides between my legs
To an ex-boyfriend who I finally realized is the last real fire that I've found outside of myself, but he is long gone in the arms of someone else.
