My heart feels like an intercepted package that was meant for you, but somehow got off track. Would you sign for it the next time we cross paths?
There is a breadcrumb trail of loneliness that leads back to a classroom at Columbia where I saw you last. I've been in a shy world lately, though there have been thoughts of you picking at my mind like it was a lock. The pleasure, the afterthought, the missing tombstone to mark where our eyes first met... these are things that keep you top of mind.
The fountains that line memory lane are now covered in ice, and I just want to feel like a coin being tossed in them again... to know that someone believes in me enough to make a wish. True love as an escape route. In a time of hope we don't really sleep... we just write. Promise you'll find me soon?
