i went to manhattan and wrote down a bunch of questions i am pretty sure i will never know the answers to

there among the monoliths and neck-breaking heights i wondered why you didn't love me

on the ramble i wondered, and knew that i was not on your mind

at some point we have to stop doing the things we do to cover up the fact that our hearts are uninvested, that our motives

are less-of instead of more-of

in a hard hotel bed i wished for more of your body and noise and heat

alone in cafes i wished for more knowledge of you and your words and the way you laugh when you tell a joke you like

during the long journey back i wished for more of your time so that we could have adventures together, so that we could share, so that we could

build

while you wished for less of my expectations

less of my pressures, less of my irritability, less of my sarcasm, less of me

and this is what happened, and why i cannot change or affect or even understand any of it

you wished for less of me

while i prayed for more of you