I was in Midtown this morning.
41st Street, so naturally I walked to 27th.
turned left, felt my chest.
prayed I didn't see you.
because if I did I would not know what to do.
I wonder if we will ever see each other.
the accepted, unforgiving future is a fickle foe.
and I almost want to get it over with.
to move on, be friends, sing a song, or not.
just make perpetual peace with the past.
I would like to read your writing.
on a random, reminding morning like this.
at least just one last time.
to remind me we existed.
because sometimes I forget.
I know closure.
is a case by case basis.
but it does not live in my cranial heart.
because moving on is like a long walk.
down East 27th street.
I am hoping for and hoping against.
the thing I want most.
you to appear and love me.
like nothing has happened.
but literally everything has occurred.
I have burned every bridge.
to light my way back.
but I am closer to a heart attack.
than a poem about cutting me some slack.
or your eventual counter inuitive sweet, bitter tome about "us."
I know this nothing.
is nothing new.
and when you're moving on.
it is important to not stop moving.
and so I kept walking and will until...