where am i now
months ago you sat at the computer
crying because of me
but not because of what i did to you
rather what i did to myself

because then
my glass wasn’t even half full
it was barely enough for sustenance
it was a sip of water out of the empty
canteen of a lost and losing vagabond

i wanted to tell you then
i wanted to show you the light
at the end of my narrow
humid little tunnel

i wanted to show you my notes
filled with words i wrote for you
but it wasn’t time yet

and it will never be time
the words are gone
they were the kindling i used
to start the fire to burn all of my bridges

i stepped outside in the pouring rain
and i thought of you
the rain put my cigarette out
i lit it again and thought of you again
i thought of how i lied
the rain knocked the cigarette out of my hand

you told me about your problem
why did i let it bother me
why must i think so far ahead
i am far too young to let this
sort of thing
get in the way
of my life

why can’t i just accept that i was almost happy with you