New York City

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever.
Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.

Writing

Some things are hard to write about after something happens to you.
You go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts, or ignore the important ones.
At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.

Maybe

I think maybe we’re all interconnected by some weird thing that sleeps inside of us.
I’m trying to decide if it’s sad or not.
I think a lot of soul mates part ways and they can still be soul mates because they’re interconnected. There have been so many love stories where two people weren’t or couldn’t be together but they were still meant for each other and their stories weren’t any less passionate.
I want to believe in the idea that two people in love would stay together forever but I don’t think that’s always the case.

And I really wish it were the case.