Sometimes the thought crosses my mind when I ride in over the bridge. The weather so bitter and cold. The lampposts bleed reflections into the East River. There is not another soul on the bridge, just dimly lit bike path. But my mind wanders and I see a flash of hair. It’s too early in the morning for any logical thinking.
You must be sleeping, any person with normal working hours would be. I wonder, do you get cold at night? Do you still jump in your sleep? Then I remember. You fell asleep waiting for me with a package Millano cookies in your bed. I would smell your hair in the early mornings. Touching your skin, I would trace the curvature of your body with my finger. I found bobby pins in my bed a few days later and I sat there and smiled a lot.
I hit the peak and start to pick up speed as the steel passes quicker than ever. And just as fast, the feeling starts rushing back. The short breaths and warm nights. The trains, the bars, your apartment. The french toast you made for me. All those little things that smilingly meant nothing, but in reality, mean more now than ever before. To have all that back, I would give so much. But this is the real world, kid. Life happens and you deal the card accordingly. Try all you like, you can’t fix her. And as I ride through the frigid winter air, I still think of you. Sometimes I wonder, does your heart still beat?
Submitted by jacobmooty.
