Note 4

It was late one night when I saw your face, and I knew you wanted someone else. In a moment then I picked up my things, and made my way back home I think. And that was the last time I saw you.

I smell your skin when I wake at night, I sit up straight turn on the lights. There's nothing there but bare white walls, and a hole in one from a drunken fall. And your things in a pile, on my floor.

Do you think of me do you tell your friends, how it all begins and quickly ends. How when I left it began to rain, like a movie scene with an empty train. Now I am dry, but faded.

Are you still too cold is it still too much, does your hand still shake at a lover's touch. Do you stare at night at a brightened screen, do you wonder what it really means. To say I love you but not know why.

Note 3

Throw your darts, I'll stand by the board, staring at you, hoping you're as good as they say. Jane. Go to England, take some classes, leave me a message. Jane. I'll listen to it three times, to remember how you sound but not what you said. Click your heels, I'll make sure you come back to me. I can get a seat on this plane. I can choose. Tell me a story but don't make me pay this time. They're never that bad but I'm not in it for the stories.

Move your hips. I'll play games in my head and my eyes will follow your lips as they curl. Watch me sleep, I promise I'll wake up and if you're there, oh if you're there.


Are you sitting at your window?
I'm sitting at my window.
Do you see them walking and trying one more time, fishing for things forgotten and buried? Or do you just see the streetlights on the pavement.

Note 2

It was one of those moments when you say your own name it feels like holes in a moth-eaten sweater. Where your identity used to wrap you up, now it's just something you're keeping, pathetically, while the entire universe silently begs you to throw it away.


Perfectly printed for the first time in history next to the date and time and doctor's scribble, all just echoes now. Said and said and said and said and my holes are getting larger. They're eating more and more and my holes are getting larger but I can't just look down and see me, you know? No one really consciously notices your clothing until it's all gone, and then everyone notices.

"I told her that I can't go to that."

Of course, I'm not Jane. So I suppose it's only proper that I feel this way.

Note 1

I saw you at a church in California. I ran down the hill to see you, threw my arms around you. You reciprocated, almost kissed me and blew smoke in my face instead. There were children talking and laughing, the crumb cake was amazing they said. We sat down at a high table. A girl I knew from high school, but couldn't remember her name, commented on how comfortable the chairs were. Suddenly she was gone, suddenly everything was gone, and it was you and me and the comfortable high chairs, and I asked, "So, how've you been?"