one of these days (years) we will speak again.
one of these minutes (hours) we will see each other without ache.
one of these moments (again) we will reconcile.
one of these nights (why always night) I will not remember with tears.
one of these days (years) I will stop stalking your tumblr (because you have obliterated my existence from every other stupid technological medium) for any tiny piece that lets me know you’re okay, and reminds me how much I still miss you.
one of these…someday, I hope, but it will be on your terms.
you asked me to write you a poem…I assume you never received my letter, so this must suffice for now.
Every time I feel something for someone…I end up either a) being bad, or b) they want to “be causal”, but actually just want to be with someone else.
This may be either a) one of those “fool me once” situations, or b) a real sign that I need to focus more on my art and personal growth…I vote B.
I remember the way you laughed
but I try not to think about that.
I remember the night you called and said
you you were tired of being sad,
well so was I.
Most nights just look like smeared charcoal
all in shades of grey and black.
And I could call out your name
but the sound would never reach you.
Or I could call you on the phone
and have nothing to say.
a teacher in my elementary school, Ms. Wagner, once told me, “you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body”. She was so right - I am still a space cadet, leaving breadcrumbs of my stuff everywhere.
On my way to work today the L train was super delayed. I opted to hail a cab the rest if the way to Union Square. When I hopped in the taxi I found a familiar sight staring back up at me: the tails side up of a Wyoming quarter.