I remember a couple of trips I made from Grand Central to New Rochelle; it felt like nothing could go wrong in my life. It felt like I really had it all—a great job, health, and the love of my life. Now I find myself waiting for the train in Surbiton station in Bumfuck, Kingston-Upon-Thames in the pouring rain with a useless umbrella—the train that will get me to Waterloo Station in 15 minutes—and think, Did I really leave New York for this? Continue reading
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No more words
I’ve stopped writing
Because I don’t want to hurt you
Any more.
One Last 2014 Haiku
I used to believe in love.
But then I realized I was just an airport,
and you were a plane.
Eleven Twenty-six
“The light has gone out of my life.”
—Theodore Roosevelt