Have you ever encountered a thing so precious that if you could not possess it, sheer madness required that you forced it to perish from this very existence?
I like how my city looks through your eyes: Bright and exciting Shiny buildings, shiny spires
Run. Run like your life depends on it.
I imagine the next time that we’ll meet. It will be unexpected. It will come out of nowhere.
I have no more words to give you Because I have no more gifts for you, save this: Don’t look back.
There’s something about wrinkled hundred-dollar cotton dress shirts, creased shirtsleeves and loosened ties. It’s the scent of decadence; the spill of play; the air of something wicked stirred.
When I am drunk, I miss you And when I am not, I don’t
I saw you there, in the gallery, alone with a shy but open smile, hoping for someone to say hello
I remember the first time I met her. She was 4 years old in this skinny little body with a skinny little neck and whippet legs with long, bony fingers.