I sit across from him,
Across from him on this circular table
As we drink coffee,
Mine as black as my soul and his
As brown as his eyes.
We hold hands and laugh
As we stay together in company.
Why do you remind me of so much that I could’ve been? Why
Does the mention of mere coffee leave me bitter?
I asked: “five sugars, three creams”
But what for? It is too late
To stay with the one I wanted to.
Things are over
And there is no redemption for the dead.
I want to move the needle back to the beginning of this record
To hear it all once again,
All the scratches and skips and cracks
That this beat up vinyl of mine has to offer.
It is hard to give up on
Someone you have faith in.
It is all the more difficult to find faith
In someone you have stopped believing in. Like
Washed out comets and
Worn out wishes, you,
Look so splendid in despair to me.
How will I ever forget this feeling of being ripped apart at the seams?