She left traces of herself
in the air.
The oil she dabbed on her wrists
smelt of wind through trees.
And sometimes when I inhale,
I can breathe her back in
until I can’t hold it anymore
and let her go.
New Years fell
like an alarm clock on my head
Sparkling champagne clinked
I swallowed down the ennui
Some drunkard stumbles
on cobblestone preaching the
apocalypse I ask him for a light
he scolds my disinterest
At midnight lovers kiss like
its some sort of last minute promise
I toast to what I know as fate
and dawn rises just the same
Some kids lit fireworks on the beach
the noise crackled against the houses
sitting quietly on the dune.
The white flashes looked like stars
that burnt out too early,
sorta like you and me
“There’s a museum of *** around the corner”
“A museum of ***.”
A lady hums a melody on the bus to Queens, I lean in and listen to her quietly, but don’t say a word.
Crowds choke avenues as protestors call out the police. The police surround them. The irony of being protected by the same force that destroys is not lost.
Rain puddles on the black cement, I notice how soft the yellow water is in contrast with the harsh taxis.
A stray glove sits lonely on the subway stairs, useless without its other half.
“This entire factory used to be covered in graffiti, the city keeps painting over the art”
A snotty waiter recommends watery wine that costs an arm and a leg, he snorts when I don’t tip.
At a flea market a lady assures me this moonstone will “cleanse me,” I lost it rushing off to midtown.
The lights twinkle like flecks of gold against black stone and I realize night is never night here.
My guy tells me he doesn’t like me in the city, I tell him I’ve never liked myself anyways.
You can't give love
only to take it back
but I swallow words
like pills these days
and the side affects
have no warning label
and overdosing is
too often fatal
Rather than grow up
she grew into herself
finding more alleyways
of her imagination to follow
and more tangled thoughts
to comb through.
It was too hot the first day we fought
roasting in a cramped parking lot
“record heat since 1909” they said
those who were smart had already fled
Rain hit the windshield
as if God himself, asked you to appeal
We made love with the windows cracked
love is many things, but mostly abstract
So I held on for as long as I could
not caring if it was just or good
heat can drive a man to do much worse
and love is just a misunderstood curse