Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Nights Are Cold

Sometimes it's hard to tell

If the tears I cry

Are because public transit won't come

And I'll be late to work

Or because every memory I have in this city

includes you.

The months spent trying to forget.

And the months spent trying to not forget you.

Sad for everything I know

and sad for what I don't.

And how to let go

when letting go is the last thing I want to do

and the first thing I need to do

to not cry on the God damn bus.

-from the desk of S.C. Browne