I wish I were a Warhol silk screen
hanging on the wall.
Or little Joe or maybe Lou -
I'd love to be them all.
All New York city's broken hearts
and secrets would be mine.
I'd put you on a movie reel
and that would be just fine.

00:01
I feel sick now and awfully lethargic. I think I may die. I am going to sleep.

00:23
I was being dramatic. I shan't die... not yet, anyway.
But someday I will, and so will you. Your pages will rot and melt into the ground, and no one will read you. And your paper will grow into trees and my words the leaves, and won't they be blown by the wind, and those leaves die? But that is words, and thoughts, and feelings. They are not everlasting, but they are certainly thought again, and felt again, and said again, and again, and again...

Hereby, the night is my Valentine
and what I lack in love song
I hear in the harsh wind's lullaby.
I see the moon letch out the ivory tusk of night
and the ashen clouds will cradle the stars
and lay upon the words I write.
Then the welkin whisked the blackened embers
thus the moon became my spirit guide
creating spring from bleak December's
my night proposal, then my morning bride

At the lecture
of Philosophical means
I saw you again
it's been two years, hasn't it?
Yes, it has.

You look very different now
you wear glasses
and you're skinny
and your cheekbones are refined
but it's been two years, hasn't it?
Of course, of course you have changed

I glanced
I didn't smile
I glanced the whole day through
the same smile
the same eyes
the same arched eyebrow
I couldn't help but miss you

I think from time to time
how things would be
if I hadn't ruined things
it wasn't you, I know it was me
two years ago I hurt people
two years ago I loved you
two years
and I still miss you

Now we live different lives
and there we met again
I with my peers and you and your friends
subtle glances
silent thoughts
of how things would have been
after two years
of singular
once one year of one entity

At the end of the day
the rain began to fall
and I walked past you
trying not to notice at all
and you walked away in a distant haze
and I watched you
in the February rain
two years of unanswered questions
now still do remain
two years
and counting
two years
stays the same

She is a thick acrylic
she'll latch on to your canvas
she is the vibrant red of your beating heart
the rainstorm blue in your eyes
she will never fade away
there are millions of layers to her
that you can never strip

I am a washed out watercolour
a faint sweep of the spectrum
a drab and fleeting glance
dilute me
and it's like I was never there
the part of your pallet
that you will forget come morning