Designer Hugs

Woke up buried in your blankets, as if I had been left for dead. Pushed my luck to remind it of ownership... until it finally fought back. I'll be skipping cracks in the pavement for the rest of the day.

We illuminated the just-past-midnight alleys and streets with dreams last night. Moonlit but sun driven, I stole your arm in your sleep and just drew half of a heart and scribbled "call me later." I know you will.

I wish your mind was as worn as my own this morning. Windows and door ways. I'm not sure which way to leave this room. After all, we're living in a world where heaven and hell are only synonyms for the location of our heads.

Called your bluff and left a voicemail. Put on my raincoat because it looks like it just might today. Tattoo that bruise and purge your exhausted throat from 'I love yous'.... Let's always be thieves with legs crossed, tongues tied, and eyes for nice things.

MyLittleOneAndPocketTheBuffalo

Lake Effect Kids

Boomeranged back to the corner of romance... yet I still insist on keeping the coroner on speed dial. Friends that aren't dying are already dead, and getting older just makes it harder to remember our bonds. We are only saviors in our youth.

One drop of blood, and an immaculate kiss. Sing-along songs will be our scriptures as we tuck ourselves in tonight. Boxed blonde's have less fun.

The hardest part of all of this is that my thoughts are double timing the keypad. A 21st century defeat. Pen and pad less. I'm ill equipped for these high noon showdowns with myself.

8th Ave at Jane Street. The way the ice in the cooler behind the bar shifts reminds me that the city is still alive below us, as the subway completes a round. One heart breaker lite with a shot of sadness.

She cuts me open without effort, while I trace "what could have beens" around her name. How did tonight become the enemy when we never even meant to show up in the first place? Take my hand and we will run away. Put your hands up on the stereo. Guilt is up to the speakers from hear on out.

A Scrapbook Honeymoon

Clumsy hearted souls only find themselves light headed in your presence. The flick of a lighter. The underscore of your forgiveness. No one can take you to hell but yourself.

Keeping it "need to know" for her aesthetic lips, while stashing backpacks across the city. Giving in or giving out. Save the world or lose the girl. Either way she will remain underneath your ribs, promoting love.

Put loneliness on hiatus and return to Hell Gate Bridge with me.

This Dexedrine Fix

Popping champagne in place of summer downpours that we never caught a glimpse of. We were way too busy punching time cards in this NYC romance. Clocking in and out of love. When it comes to hearts, take one home or take one for the team. At least these amphetamine veins are working again.

The ceiling fan kicks the candle flame in its midsection. Bending, but not breaking. And while the bright light fights through the space it creates, I pray that your hand will forever be in my back pocket. Promise to lace your fingers with my broken bones. It won't hurt half as much as it should. Separate the numbers inside these veins and let the record skip to your voice.

Monotone weekend. Lip locking in stereo.

289Bleecker double-captain-coke-no-lime-no-straw

This Nuclear Summer

The edge of town was stained in gold... so she took flight minus parachutes and airbags, and began chasing pavement. Full of bright eyed stories of Dylan going electric, she wears a raven on her back... and is a constant reminder that this life will always be a matador.

Stayed up late reading into my past... sleeping through the afternoon and missed calls. The dark of night is here to greet me at my window. I wake up and let it in. Tears have been sliding on their own. In and out of somnia.

They say loneliness is something you create and destroy in your own head. So I'm banging mine against these walls just to watch the ideas flow out. Hanging onto last calls and long distance fevers.

Shyness-like chloroform. Everything is slowing down now. The last to leave is the last alive. I watch as they all dance to the sounds of the bombs crashing in the street.

(Im)pressed Between The Pages

Hands-free, overnight travel. When will they develop a remedy for this addiction? Manhattan nights and mornings in Astoria.

I've never seen glitter shine so see-through as much as the look in your eyes. Especially when they're leading towards your bedroom. Ovation for the silent show we've played although the noise in those deep brown eyes could have condemned the neighborhood. It must make them sad to know of all the love behind these walls.

I've been tainted by all of the magnificent colors that surround your smile. Here's to hands held under a never ending sky of "I wonder whys".

Without you, these pills take me better than I do them.

Light A Match To Leave Me Be

Nobody ever tells about the one that got away. So I'm flying to the city that knows me by name and all of the bad things that I do. Busted lips resurface with cold hearts so be prepared for Monday morning. In the meantime realize that Summer is on her last leg, and that you're sleeping with a fan on high.

My NYC princess. I've come so far to be with you. Focused on empty stomachs from Botin's in Madrid. I hope the food is half as good as you and Hemingway have promised.

The night is filled with lightning... yet there isn't any precipitation. Like my eyes are supposed to provide the downfall. To fill this lake and call it even. Droughts are just heavens own doubts. Not for my shoulders to carry. This thunder can't keep me from taking off. She's the only one that speaks with a gentle voice.

Writing Love Notes On Prescription Pads

She often lights a cigarette to avoid worse habits, between the numbness and a faint idea of what it was to cry or smile. Her eyes are my escape route.

She likes waiting until the hot water runs out so she can lean her shoulders back against the cool, tile wall. I want to ask her to fit me inside her book bag, because I'm just dying to crawl out and scratch the insides of her veins.

We are sunny side up and full of urban smiles this morning. Maybe this capsule filled arrogance will carry me through the day.

She's sound asleep as I punch away with fingertips to the keyboard. Covered up, but not well kept. These are the secrets we sleep on... the ones that will send us all to hell.

Love Is A Duel

All of these words sometimes feel like intimacy without the proximity... when all that I really want is to feel the weight of your hands inside mine.

The moon sits high and full tonight, echoing the rhythm of my lonely city feet. My heart sits low within its cage and is wishing for a pen and paper.

Found a candle in the street and bummed a light. I've been burning it for you.

Old Friends and "Play It Agains"

Waking up inside a flask. Mornings are only cold showers for my dreams. Wide awake is always someone else's.

I collect hotel room keys and airline tickets stubs. All from the places that I've missed you in. Nobody toasts to normal days. I'll be there soon to correct this. Until then, vote me the boy most likely to match your beats per minute.

It's Schadenfreude

Love is (d)anger(ous) on many levels. So I invited nervousness over for a few drinks, got it drunk, and took its life. Besides, it's not like it will be missed. Her heart was just a mailbox and was wasting too much of my hard earned cash on stamps anyway.

Cut to Sheridan Square - where Raindrop kisses had me listening to the traffic passing us by, all the while leading me to the realization that although I'm still eighteen in the heart... I'm not in the bones.

Her kisses tasted like dark parking lots and bright headlights, and with every tilt of our heads we we're writing a story. This will forever be summertime in New York City.

It's Worth The Sting

Anywhere is away from me. Drama sat shot gun as my eyes rained like mid-Autumn on the plane ride back to NC.

I have yet another plane ticket for the morning to fix it all. These are all just automatic love letters to how it is supposed to be.

I'll tell you it's for my t-shirt, but we both know I'm coming back for more. Your make-up smeared eyes let me know we felt the same when the door closed.

BleeckerAnd7thAndYouAndMe

From Room 1440, Waldorf Astoria NYC

She smirks on the uptown 4 train, Bronx bound. Reading all the while. 168th street princess. This is my open road.

Crazy eyed lost soul. I am you. Sometimes all that you need to do to feel alive is squeeze yourself between closing subway doors. Aggressively seeking your destination, even if it is just the next stop.

Stringing thoughts, hanging by a thread to these streets. A puppet waiting for repairs.

Call in sick with your teeth pressed to the intercom. Like tongues to razor blades. Let's set the night on fire one last time. Let's make memories and mistakes in these tattered sheets. Let's be the glistening in the eyes of catastrophe.

Washing Off In Wishing Wells

Night-lights are just the eyes that a mother leaves behind her to guard her children... especially the ones who know that to live would be an awfully big adventure.

Breathe in faith and hope, and this smoke filled bar. Cash in all of the glory from your biggest mistakes and give it all away. Laugh out loud while the tears flow and realize that this is just a little heartache. It's just a little hole.

Geneva to NYC to better. Stateside reunions. Plug the black light rosary back in. Somebody's flying to save me.

WendyMoiraAngelaDarling