I miss you even if I don't know who you are.
I miss your face and your voice and your smile and you.
I miss your everything.
I miss everything you are and ever were and I miss
every single thing you have never, ever been.
I miss you because I don't know you,
or maybe I miss you because I know--knew-- you so well.
Imissyoumissyou.
I feel empty without you, even if we have not met
because there's the gap that you will need to fill; the
gap that will be there when you are gone.
I miss the way you made me feel, the ways you will
make me feel.
I long for your touch, your presence.
I miss you and me, even if we have never had a chance to happen.
I'll miss you when we have happened.
In the end it seems that I'm forever missing you.
I was really into Neruda when I wrote this. Don't know if it shows, but I was.
Just to show off my cursive. (For Jac)
Relishing my last (late) nights of freedom.
A best friend taught me to never sleep.
Always said it was for the weak.
I don't sleep much because I don't want to miss out.
I hold hands with insomnia, anyway.
With all the time we spend together we're practically engaged.
Only practically.
3:40 AM
I like hearing the crickets outside my window; they remind me I'm home.
I like 3 AM because everyone is asleep beside(s) me.
The light posts are on and the street is quiet.
A rush of salt and ocean breeze.
East coast nights.
Seagulls are napping but it's playtime for cats and gators.
Used up pens and ink-stained hands.
I'm working on perfecting the art of my 3:30 scrawl.
It's mostly loops and curves.
Slurred the alphabet.
For someone who loves nighttime, you'd think I'd be a little less afraid of the dark.
Remind me:
I've got the stars to lead me home.
3:47 AM
2 AM is when bar-goers and harlots lurk.
I'm not sure how I'd do in New York if it's the city that never sleeps.
Someone is always on the prowl.
4 o'clock loses the magic of three; it's for the Early Birds, not the Night Owls.3 in the morning is the purgatory between party goers and early risers.
It's my home.
A best friend taught me to never sleep.
Always said it was for the weak.
I don't sleep much because I don't want to miss out.
I hold hands with insomnia, anyway.
With all the time we spend together we're practically engaged.
Only practically.
3:40 AM
I like hearing the crickets outside my window; they remind me I'm home.
I like 3 AM because everyone is asleep beside(s) me.
The light posts are on and the street is quiet.
A rush of salt and ocean breeze.
East coast nights.
Seagulls are napping but it's playtime for cats and gators.
Used up pens and ink-stained hands.
I'm working on perfecting the art of my 3:30 scrawl.
It's mostly loops and curves.
Slurred the alphabet.
For someone who loves nighttime, you'd think I'd be a little less afraid of the dark.
Remind me:
I've got the stars to lead me home.
3:47 AM
2 AM is when bar-goers and harlots lurk.
I'm not sure how I'd do in New York if it's the city that never sleeps.
Someone is always on the prowl.
4 o'clock loses the magic of three; it's for the Early Birds, not the Night Owls.3 in the morning is the purgatory between party goers and early risers.
It's my home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)