I took a ride to Hell and back today during that half second when you looked away just as I met your eyes. When I saw those eyes, those hazel eyes drunk on the wine of the young, your straw hair unkempt and your clothing exuding that imperfect sprezzatura that I loved to memorize, my stage-smile fell. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to come home? Seven months of pretending, crumbled in half a second!


I took a ride to Hell and back today, staring at the mismatched bowtie around your neck. I saw it, but I didn’t see it.