Bored In Manhattan, 1-3-16
We slept for five hours or we didn’t sleep at all
but when we slept we fantasized of Times Square
heart of the winter, center stage, real leather jackets housed
extended arms.
I took the underground train
to your place and walked a mile to the gate--rehearsed
my lines and climbed a mountain to the door,
and you weren’t even there.
I left my name in the thick fog that my breath created
on your window for you to see where I land
on cold, boring, winter nights tracking
the snow from my side of town to
yours
where I shouldn’t have been so wearied and forlorn
where I shouldn’t have loved so unbreakable and fervently
in Manhattan--I should have been home.
Copyright © Nyia Bentley | Year Posted 2016
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