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My desire to be in sync with him had nearly been my undoing.

You mixed a drink of sugar, rum, brackish debris. The ice was finite.

Part of my desire to be in London related to its writers.

Those moments are all I want. I want a life of this. He sighs and I sigh.

Don’t worry baby, that’s just the way things be sometimes.

I confessed to loving another man, streetlamp sequin on a rain puddle. Later, in sleep, your arms opened to me. Mid-snore compromise.

Maybe all of it was possible. Maybe it all could work out.

I’m still in love with this filthy city, but now I know Berlin's love isn’t free.

Delighted to be there, celestial together, as high as you get.