"late nights in jersey we spent walking in the cold, were the warmest times i've known"
the smell of being back in town made me long for the congestion of jersey. for some reson i like the dirty, cramped up streets that i so often find myself stumbling through drenched under the influence. i hate the hangover that crushes my head when im trying to indulge in the sweet essence of the morning after before it seeps into regret. there's a part of me that loves the feelings of being used, and hated, and dirty, but there is a part of me that hates my other half for loving all of the above. "to love and to be loved"...what i should be longing for, and what i am longing for, but somehow i think i wont reach it, which spells out my behaviors of careless drinking, one night stands, and half-hearted care. there's just something about the cold wind cutting my face like glass when im walking through the streets with a girl, more inebriated than i, hand in hand and not feeling cold at all. i try to push out the thought that, this isnt real, the warmth is probably just the vodka i had consumed considerable amounts of only to pretend i knew what i was talking about when we spoke of love. "i'll come back to you soon"... a promise to be broken, as i do hearts...and as i do my own. do you miss me jersey? because i miss you too.