to tell beauty anymore.
From blasting cigs
in Athens, Georgia
with Matt English,
to watching basketball
in Puerto Rico,
it is there.
But I have to squint
and gag on my heart.
From holding a little hand,
making sure it is safe
in a busy parking lot,
to dancing in a diner
in bastard Brooklyn,
it's there.
But I have to hold tight
and gag on my heart.
From love with need
to blood from knees,
hot coffees
on cold mornings,
to the chances I'll die
tonight,
it is there.
But I have to wish right
and gag on parts of my heart.