For You.

I want to write about
the possibility of us on giant billboards,
inside the front cover of every book in my room
(in thick, black Sharpie), and
onto that graffiti-filled wall we saw in west L.A.
You know that I will
stand on city street corners, repeating myself
to anyone that cares to listen.

Right now you are just a lucid dream
stuffed into a folder marked "never again" -
but maybe if I can spread us into the corners of this map,
it will finally be enough.
Maybe, if I can just
leave all these pieces of us in enough
airport parking lots and dirty bus seats,
we will no longer be something that
could have been when all I wanted was something
that was.

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