new pulse.

i've known you for quite some time.
we've spent many days in the waves of the atlantic and hours sitting in carriages waiting on tourists to fill them. but you were in love, or so you thought. and you left this holy city behind with her for a city that never sleeps. but in that tiny shoebox you once called home, you two got the best of each other, and eventually said goodbye.

we have a lot of friends in common. but we never spent alot of time together until you left. and this past visit, two weeks ago over margarita pitchers and a nacho royale, you said you wished we had gotten to know each other earlier. and i said i wished the same thing too.

i don't know what to think about you, but all i know is i continually find myself spending afternoons searching for plane tickets to new york city. to see you.

and i think you do too.

you know my past, you know what makes me tick, you know how to make me smile, blush, and giggle. but i'm hesistant about you, because i fell in love with you in a completely different way long before we ever considered buying me a ticket to put me on a plane that landed in your town. the town where i think of us drinking beer in mets stadium, bathing in the central park sunshine, getting indian food at midnight, and hailing a yellow automobile to take us to friends' houses in nearby burroughs. i wish we could do it all tomorrow. not in june.

i think you might be the one who breaks down the wall i built around myself the day the bassist said goodbye. i hope you are.