We should gather everyone we know and play Marco Polo in the fields. We should drive to the city, pick a wall and a color, and give the men in suits something to wonder about.

The Friday Night Truth

"I could die tomorrow. I think you should stop overthinking us and just feel." You stared at me with alien eyes and explained how that didn't help you decide between the black and the gray suits. Well, maybe you shouldn't have asked for my honest opinion.

Even the Gods Were Blind

And while you were out there, prowling the streets in search of love, we were all right here. Arms open, waiting for you to come home. Come home.

The Twelve-Step Jig

I couldn't speak from years of smokey rooms. Thank you for helping me to find my voice.

Even the Gold Rusts Here

And when I asked you how you've been holding up since we last talked, I meant I missed your smile, the way you look when you laugh (even if it's at me), your cynicism, your wit, your shitty jokes. I missed you. I know its been months, but you still feel like home.

The Snow Muffles Us All

In the depths of December, I know you'll keep me warm.

The Words We Didn't Mean

I'm sick of us trading places: the one who leaves and the one who is left. It didn't have to be like this.