Ace of spades
Is what I got
When I listened to my heart
This one time
Miles away
From where I was born
I felt undressed
As nature does
When cherries blossom
I admired them when I walked into you
The darkness could not hide
Their naked beauty
Nor my surprise when our eyes met
I knew it was love that my heart played
To the notes of a symphony yet to be created
Only our souls could hear and
Would dance, just as I imagined
Yours forever whispered the wall
We lean against to kiss...
I can still feel the taste of you
No floor... Leave... you said
I left flying not because there was no floor
But the butterflies you awaken inside of me
Ace of hearts
Is what I lost
When I looked at you
The last time
When we said good-bye with our eyes
Too afraid to say it loud
Ace of love
Is what I took with me
To the other side of the ocean
But left my heart on the armchair
Next to the photo booth
So I could return soon

tile covers the floor and the wall and the ceiling
it sends my head spinning.
glorious white has faded to decaying yellow
cracks and grime populate this darkness.
a damp chill settles in the air
only broken up by the occasional subway train
out of the vacuum of the tunnels.
fast food wrappers covered in lipstick stains tumble in the wake of passing crowds,
the only testament to the world up above.
it's quite possible to believe that
nothing exists
besides these miles of tunnels
and endless rows of splintered tiles.
from the depths within
demonic sounds terrorize
and with the red lights that draw ever closer
right on schedule,
it's not hard to believe the veil is thinner here
in this never-resting place
and an energy surge
or the blink of an eye
could turn these diluted colors
to black and red and white
with no way back up to the city streets you once thought you knew

Industrial rust
dusted over and
hardened, tarnished
towers and the solitary
echo of the wind -
perhaps once there
was a presence to
this Plateau, if anything
it’s buried in the woods
of the cemetery with the
legacy. A dead tree in
a dying field, engulfed
by emptiness and a monument
to the past: but how much
longer will it last?

he was the kind of beautifully terrifying you can't seem to let leave your head after you've met and their every move stains your brain as you replay it over and over. i don't know the last time someone excited me just by being their self so unintentionally - you can only hope you hold that kind of power when you waltz in and out of somones life like that.

Something amazing happened last week
For a moment I felt what it was like to be young again
With my memories I can never quite get there

But I try

I’ll close my eyes when I eat a chipwich
it tastes like running back to our beach umbrella with sticky fingers
the summer we rented a cottage in Montauk
I long for the itchy feeling of sand in my bathing suit
and for the salt to sting my eyes again

That would be heaven
But I still throw the wrapper away in the stainless steel trash can
beneath the sink in my apartment
that is exactly two hundred miles and twenty three years from Ditch Plains

It hurts sometimes
to remember how much I have forgotten
When we had dance parties to the Austin Powers soundtrack
When watching mom get dressed
and waiting for the babysitter
and kissing you goodbye
and chicken nuggets for dinner
was the best feeling in the world
Because I knew I could always expect
the smell of your coffee in the morning
those days when we lived in the red house on Craft Avenue.

But last week
in the backseat of a friend’s car
driving back to Boston after a long hike
I watched the gray forest pass by outside my window
and I fought to keep my eyes open
I was no longer thirty-five
I knew the moment would come when I would be lifted out of my car seat
and brought inside
where you would light a fire
and mom would make hot chocolate for us
And later we would eat homemade popcorn and watch Titanic
as our winter boots lay on their sides in the front hall
the snow between the treads slowly melting and darkening the wood floor

I felt very safe inside that car
the kind that only a child on the brim of sleep can feel
I don’t know if I will feel that way again
But I will still close my eyes when I eat a chipwich
and wait for the smell of your coffee in the morning

As I sat alone in bed listening to the cycling whirl of the dishwasher,
I wished that I was ordering a second glass of Laphroaig,
feeling a warm glow move through my body,
drunk on an elixir of your laughter and scotch,
wondering why we had let three months slip away.

Yet,

miles and hours disappeared,

and it was

April 19, 2014,

and I was

terrified of how the night would

end.

I keep thinking about the peace I am greeted with while my hands are on your stomach
And your arms are under my head
Losing you is a thought I can't stomach
And tonight it'll **** me as I Iay in alone in bed

I fell a lot in life
And with failure comes dread
Sometimes it's hard to get back up
But when I fell for you I was suddenly not dead
But ironically I don't think I'd ever get back up if you left

Outta curiosity they'll ask where you live and I'll always almost slip

And say "that guy lives in my heart"

But who the **** says **** like that?

Besides me in private when I'm with you or me in public after 3 long islands

But ****...its official
The flight attendant commands
We fasten our seat belts
And before I know it the plane lands

Back in New York and it feels like my soul melts

I don't know what to do.

These miles are memories
And now I got memories for miles
But yet I regret not taking like 10 pictures of each of your smiles.

On my way from DC to Manhattan, the sky an odd indigo.
Got some donuts from the local bakery, which I'm munching on.
Some girl sits next to me.
After a couple hours she dozed off, and I whisper to her:
"You might be stardust, but you're no nebula."
She can't see the window through my silhouette.
I hate that inky nothing, I hate that
shadow, I hate
that silhouette.