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
