You are currently browsing the daily archive for May 12, 2011.
For The Best
Rain falls outside the Oxford.
It drips off the eaves, like tears.
Sometimes, those tears trickle down my cheeks
on cold, wet days like these
when the future feels hopeless.
Songs are sad.
I droop.
All hope
feels lost.
I remember other nights here.
Love
made
well.
Laughter
well
spent.
And now
when I take a spin by the
fifth floor
I wonder if the ghost I feel
is me.
But the rain falls
harder and harder
on Wazee
as the spring day dims.
And for me,
there is nothing to do
but keep going.


