Heartache from the Archives.

I sob into the pillow that once held your head.

The only trace I have of you now seeps with the salty streams of my tears. 

Soon I’ll have to wash this pillowcase; leaving me nothing to remember you by.

Maybe I killed you with kindness, with my love. 

It seems to be an agitating pattern of mine.

Yet, the true answer still remains a mystery unsolved.

Even still, among the clustered crowds of people in Alphabet City I still only look for you. 

Hoping one day to thank you for making me believe I could be loved again. 

Until that day, I’ll always carry with me the image of your boyish face and the way you looked at me in that diner on the east side. 

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How good it is to be loved, even for just a moment in time.