Your songs
never got sadder,
how can that
be?
Your mother
still
has your father
you held onto
your God,
I didn’t
know
the world
still deserved
something like
that
Yea,
I’ll go to brooklyn
I’ll pay for the booze
I’ll walk you around.
we can stand.
watch
the sun go down
behind
the last projects of lower manhattan.
I’ll wonder if I invented you
and I’ll wonder if you’ll erase me.
i’ve got the torch in
my hand
don’t turn
your face too quickly,
even a breeze
will give the flames
a reason
to dance.
you’ve got
the after storm blue eyes.
your eyes
tell me you sat on this bench before,
you
know
which two buildings
the sun
will split. it’s
the knowledge
of a broken heart.
even with your God
and
your parents
love has been a betrayal.
you spent too much
time on this bench
alone. you
know
the bums,
you know which hipster
will bring the guitar
and what song he
will sing.
you can’t know these things
until you’re alone. and
you can’t
be alone
until you’ve
learned
you’re only safe
with
yourself.
it’s hard
to know when
to make a move.
the last light has
attached itself
around your
head
like an
icon.
the divine glow,
whatever that yellow ring
is circling the white dove
that means
peace and love
and the sun
and spring
and youth.
i know i should
kiss you now,
but i don’t
because
you say
“let’s swim to
Manhattan”,
and
in the water reflection
I realize I’d rather see you smile
than see
your face touching mine
And maybe
it
should end like that.
with us
not touching
and I could know
you
like the
birds know the sky.
and I won’t have to invent you.
and you’ll never have to erase me.
your songs
will stay sweet
and we
can share the dark places
of our hearts
that
no one else
gets to see.
i’ll
love you
like only a man
who never gets the girl
can,
and every day
will feel like those
last minutes
we put our heads
to the ground,
figuring out
how to
share our first kiss
goodbye