08.OCT.2014
6:27P

try and mop up the mess / you'll never get rid of it

she is gone. i hear from you sometimes, but only when no one is looking. only when you need a quiet place.

you're selling your winter coat (the one you were wearing when you called me on that twelve-degree night, fucked up, half stumbling through washington square and half not on this planet, smoking cigarettes n. had brought you from the bahamas. i could hear your teeth chattering over the sound of the wind. the one you're wearing in photos the magazine photographer took nine hours later on the train i can hear from my house).

"worn once."