I think I should smile.

I'm the face in your mind

When you scrawl those lyrics

And strum your guitar.

But I'm a cynic.

I can't say a word

Without wondering what will break

Because of its syllables.

You paint happy endings

With three shared breaths

And snatched New Year fireworks

Over a New York skyline.

I ink my heart on my skin.

Watch my palms, my canvas

I think of you when I write

On a crumpled paper napkin

Still stained with the cappuccino

And my tears when you waved good bye

Mouthing stolen words out the window

Our story begins tomorrow

For the hundredth time.