I think of you  
In the days we loved.  

When we shimmered with a brilliance  
That made the sun blush.  
And we didn't care or fear  
If we would burn out,  
As long as we spun  
To glorious ash together.  

Take us then and lock us away.  
Pluck those short days  
From the script  
And write us  
No more.  
Let us be each other's  
First songs and swan songs-  
And we would be happy.  
To never know another soul  
The way we know each other,  
And we would be content.  

The truth of first loves,  
Kept safe from the wisdom  
And cowardice of age,  
That teaches us to be cautious  
With our hearts  
Reluctant in our affections.  

But now…now the world  
Would ruin us.  
Obsession weakened,  
Diluted by the mundane,  
The tediousness of days  
That tempers us from  
What we were  
To what we are;  
And shows us to be  
Dim reflections of ourselves.  

So I keep you treasured away  
In my recesses,  
In the days we loved-  
Where time cannot strip away  
Nor circumstance impose  
Its penalties.  
Where you still burn  
With reckless abandon,  
So as to consume me completely.  

But this time  
I will turn to ash  
Alone.

No matter how many mountains I write of, every word speaks only of you. Waking from a broken dream, regret lingers with each return to consciousness.

I'll never be 21 with anyone else

There will be no other voice on the other end of the phone after that time I got fired
or holding me close after I tanked that exam about the history of the European Union

No one else will be the first person I fell in love with
or the first to let me down

We had our highs
and more than lows than I can count
but it was something spectacular for the years we had

I still think of you every October and the day we first met
How much things have changed

How you're one thing I don't regret

I'm retracing the steps you once took,
The remnant of sepia shadows that was once here,
To understand what this art really means to you.

In front of me, a random grass patch where you once lay
Now lies abandoned for puppies to roll and tourists to pose
I am sitting here seven years too late,
Born too late to meet him, who now sleeps in the soil,
But not too late to breathe the same air as you.

So let’s dance and create our own footprints,
I promise I'll immortalize our shadows,
Engrave your words in my heart,
Etch your name like these memorials on the stone.

Now that I'm here, I promise you that
Nothing shall be erased by the wind,
Nobody will say that “it is forgotten”.

Vibe-check, it’s Friday. Yay! A delightfully cool Friday at that! I’d like to thank the democratic party (which I’ve heard controls the weather now). Has the heat finally surrendered to the inevitable freshness of fall?
Can we please proceed directly to a cruel winter?

“What are we doing tonight?” I asked Lisa as she sat on the edge of a chair to put on her Nine West tunic pointed-toe booties. She has class this morning and I don’t. I’m sipping coffee, curled up on our red-corduroy couch, under a school themed throw, trying to grasp the plot of a fascinating chemistry book.

“Something fun,” she said, verbatim, offering little concrete as she picked up her slouchy silhouette, hobo bag.
“See ya,” she said, shouldering the door open with her right arm and securing her coffee with her left.
She’s got one of those giant coffee cups that are so vogue. She gives herself 30 minutes, after our morning jog, to get ready for class and that whole time, she’s brewing cup after k-cup of Keurig coffee to fill that monster.
“Byeeeeee,” I responded, before the door clunked closed.

Sunny, came to the door of her room, “Do you separate your whites and darks?” She asked.
“Of course,” I said, not looking up, to save my page-place, “we’re not animals.”
“I never separate,” she confessed.
“That’s why your white socks are pink,” I updogged.
“They are pink,” she said, pulling up her pajama leg to expose her pink socks, “bright pink.”

The serious events have started. Parties thrown by groups, always to a theme, offering whimsical, rainbow palates of fun. We’re here for it, my room and suitemates, all of us. There’s no better way to spend a Friday or Saturday night, than dressing up as a Disney princess, jedi princess or streetwalking zombie princess.

Some nights, there’s more than one and we jump gatherings until we find the perfect one. We easily feed off of each another’s energy. We’re all 21-year-olds now and pushing past painfully obvious insecurities, legal restrictions and occasionally, moral boundaries.

Ok, let’s reach for some Friday night rhymes:

Fridays are reserved for revelry, for noise and crazy mirth,
you can find a rave or masquerade with very little research.

The venues are themed and adorned for festive cheer,
and the turned-up music ignites those dance-like atmospheres.

Picture tapestries of youthful fun and you’ve grasped the vibe of the night.
In fleeting moments, we reach for it - I hope you brought your invite.

There was a disappointing ‘jungle rave’ where people were smoking inside!
Are you a ‘master of the universe,’ if you can’t get air-quality right?

Way too soon the revels cease
and in the Saturday morning quiet, we search out tasty eats.
We did it for memories, to give our dull lives a makeover
and good news! I didn’t wake up with a hangover.
.
.
Songs for this:
Nite Becomes Day by Citizen Cope
Breathe In by Frou Frou

i knew you'd leave me one day soon,
so i made the most of every afternoon
i held on tight to moments we shared, trying to cherish, to show i cared

Diving deep into my memories,
Where winds whisper, and waves clash with melancholy.
Echoes of freedom, I can’t always recreate—
Yet in every storm, I anchor in faith,
Sailing toward dreams and higher conscious states,
Seeking peace and tranquility, where I calmly escape.

Yesterday I took
A day off and drove
All the way to Berlin
A seven hours roadtrip
(Which I made in four)
Like the ones I used to do
Back when we were young
Just because you said that
There'd be some party and
It'd be cool if I showed up

Yesterday I walked
In the pouring rain
Around the Tiergarten
Like we did so many times
Because you were having
A tough day and wanted
To talk about it

Yesterday I've had
Some coffee in our old
Place in Prenzlauer Berg
And I swear that for a
Moment I could glance
Across that familiar table
Your emerald green eyes
And the wild flames of
Your red hair

I know it's kind of stupid
Keep coming to this place
Now that you're happily
Married and with children
Living half the world away
In America

But those memories are
The closest I'll ever be
Of seeing you again
And for that Berlin
Will forever have
A special place
In my heart