I'm just another note, in your symphony.
Grab me by my throat, have me trembling on my knees.
You're just a chain smoker,
I'm a Pack of Cigarettes.
I cross the line & lean over, nothing I regret.
.
You tighten the strings, make another sound.
Play a rhythm, and just keep smoking around.
And with every noise, your eyes they shine brighter.
Cause the only hand you need is the one with the lighter.
.
Now your buds are on the ground.
You wonder what went wrong?
Your chords were right, & so was the tone.
.
I knew karma, couldn't harm her.
But, this time it's going down.
Cause what goes around...
...must come back around.
- **Aks, Chainsmokers & Symphonies.

Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me
because you forgot that I'm not there anymore?
I slept next to someone else last night,
But I had a dream that I was next to you,
And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up.
I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or
Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me.

According to everyone I should just go meet someone else,
but it's not that easy.
I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober,
When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you.
I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back
Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night.

Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the *****?
I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning.
That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw
Why
Didn't
You
Love
Me?
I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy.
I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams,
You still don't love me.

If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough,
Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message?
If I stare out my window long enough,
Will I see you walking towards my front door?
I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me.
That's become particularly annoying
since the Chainsmokers got popular.
Apparently I can't get over you
while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists
But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to.

The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk.
I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed
since you're much taller than me.
In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life
that haven't been moving at all.

The schoolteacher had an affair in Santa Fe.
She was a schoolteacher and a tourist.
And an affair adds dimension.
It makes a place more than memory.
The notion of it inverts.
Santa Fe now resided inside of the schoolteacher.
The city had a cracked voice and blonde hair
and a slightly sagging belly and pictures
of a New York niece on its phone and
an ambivalent relationship with combing its hair
and an irrational fear of left turns.
She expected young artists with vague academic worldviews,
chainsmokers talking loudly about point of view and Heidegger.
Instead the artists were retirees, painting nothing but landscapes
of red earth, attempting to improve on the natural world.
The schoolteacher did not like this kind of art.
It was trivial.
Wholly unnecessary.
Then the blonde artist walked up behind her
in a stucco gallery. He said, "You hate it don't you?"

"Yes."

She turned. He appeared to be in his early forties.

"Tourists never understand it."

"I'm not a tourist."

"You are. You've never been within the land."

"Don't talk to me like this."

"This is how women prefer to be talked to."

"Not this woman."

"Even you. You want to be told you're wrong.
'I look fat' No. 'Everybody hates me.' That's not true.
I'm skipping the stage where we agree. I'm going
straight to the stage where we are opposites.
Plus and minus."

"The part where we *****."

"Or connect or lose ourselves."

"I bet you live in a loft. Dozens of half-finished
canvases strewn about. Dabs of dried paint on
newspapers."

"I live in my big sister's basement. She isn't home."

"There's not enough wine in the world."

"That's where you're wrong," he said.

She made him Punctual from a late latheef
An extrovert out of a lone desert
Chivalrous knight who was an insensible trash
Responsible man who always forgot the dates
Kind human whom world saw as a hooligan
Studious kid who was a topper in reverse order
Majestic man out of a whiny babe
 
 
She made him drop the Deadwing, which had his soul
listen to Chainsmokers which was once detested
share his share of chocolates and make an amendment
Let the pillion occupy the special reserved seat
Dump all the colossal ego just to see her grin
Ignore the friends as if some ***** jinx
Get drenched because she found bliss in it
 
How do you feel now, that the bait is consumed
There is no more interest, no intrigue left

Get the control of the handle now
Rev your ****** out on the road you like
Stop not till you find the the right place
Hope is what keeps us awake through ghastly nights.

My favorite tragedies? What-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

What if?

What if I chose to take the 1:30 train instead of the 1:15? 15 minutes and we could have remained as total strangers to each other.

What if I chose the empty spot next to the old lady instead of sitting beside you? A few seats away and I wouldn't even know the color of your eyes.

What if I got off the station before yours? A stop away and our story wouldn't even have a beginning.

What if I chose to shut off the world and just put on my earphones as I walked home? Several steps of jamming to The Chainsmokers and I wouldn't even hear the sound of your voice.

What if I pretended I couldn't make it to the party you invited me to? A simple excuse and a thousand dances with you would have been nothing but daydreams.

What if I was an hour late to our first date and you just decided to leave a moment before I arrived? A minute's difference and we would have ended even before we could have started.

What if you decided to drive down that highway where three people died that night? A reckless mistake and we wouldn't even be breathing the same air.

What if you never told me you loved me and that I meant everything to you? Nine unspoken words and we would be a story of missed chances.

What if I didn't tell you I loved you too and you meant to me more than everything in this world? Fifteen unuttered words and we would have been a story of yesterdays.

What if you decided to stay instead of giving me up? We could have been still holding each other until the night breaks into dawn.

What if I decided to hold on instead of letting you go? We could have been still having those long talks about anything under the sun and beyond.

What if you decided to turn around and make it all right? Our song would have played right where it was paused.

What if we could travel back in time, would you do it all again?

Because I would. I would still take the 1:15 train.
I would still pick the seat right next to you.
I would still get off on your station even if it meant walking thirty minutes home.
I would still leave my earphones off just to see if you would talk to me.
I would still go to Tom's party even though I hated him and his friends.
I would still arrive an hour early to our first date just to make sure I didn't miss you.
I would still lead you in circles on the way to my house just to get more time with you.
I would still wait for you to say those nine words even though I saw it in your eyes every day.
I would still say those fifteen words even though I knew you already knew.

I would do it all over again, go through it all over again even if I knew we would end up like this, even if I knew that you would choose to leave and that I would choose to let you go.

Why? Because we could have been the grandest story ever told, we could have been each other's greatest love we no longer had. It was better to have known your sweetest affection and most painful surrender than to have not known any love and hurt at all.

My favorite tragedy? Us.

It started to that place
where chainsmokers lingers
liquors playing in every intestines
and songs that makes you sway.

We talk almost every night
from that moment our eyes met
we didn't even know how to start
but that was just part of talking to stranger.

This might be a start of something new
or maybe another part of growing up
and no matter how this ends
I will stay here, calmly listening.

She used to flaunt around with whispers of whiffs of **** and cigarette smoke sunken into her sweaters and wavy locks.

When she left, he longed for the smell of what he once had, so he started hanging around the potheads and chainsmokers of the campus

But soon, he realized that it was not just the smell of scorched planty fibers that he longed for,

It was the smell of her without and before the addictions,
How sweet and sticky it was in the late summer nights,
How her breath toyed with the hairs of his neck.

But he mostly just missed the presence of another being that could make him realize he is

still here.
Still alive.
Still able to be.