I know I passed you on the street last week... and now I'm back in NYC in a crowded room, all alone. Resorting to being myself since everyone else is taken. My thoughts are spreading out on notebook paper that's crumpled and creased. The words aren't perfect, but they make me feel ok against the candlelight. My tie is askew, but what's the use? We all are bound to return home... just to watch through our keyholes for signs of life anyway. This isn't me.
Unfocused blue eyes stare back from the bathroom mirror. Apologetic, but not in the form of an exit. The deep black is not an option anymore. The same way that this smile is not a parachute. I would give my life to have you here right now. I can feel you when the wind dies down. I wouldn't be such an island, if I had you.
I know that soon enough the right words will find their way back to me, and that they will just spi(e)ll (you) out. Until then I'm vacant.
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