i am rollerblading through paris.
i am without you—in fact,
i am without anyone.
they all left me like you’d leave a lover,
like the last cup of coffee i’ll ever watch them drink,
then they leave.
they had no choice,
they loved & hated me.
now i’m in paris and i’m rollerblading.
because these are the only shoes that i’ve found
that fit me in this new country.
by the end of the week
i’ll have been down every street.
i’ve been at this for months now;
locals are noticing
and trying to introduce themselves,
and the sports reporters want my picture.
but i won’t talk.
i don’t want to hurt nobody else
where ever i walk.
the only one i miss
is the only one I chose to leave:
you, i miss you like a junkie.
you’re the only one who didn’t try to take it from me.
(whatever it is they want)
i want you to know: i am happy.
here’s the last time
you’ll ever see my writing.