Green suitcases and hot pink nails and one ticket, one way.

Cold toes and fingers and watering eyes.

Walks on streets and sidewalks and over bridges and sore feet in worn shoes.

Blank rooms and blow up beds and hardwood floors and cracked windows.

Nights without sleep or dinner or a sense of direction.

Calls home with no answer and waking up in the dark and walks lit by empty buildings.

Trains with no room to stand or move or stay or sit.

Bookstores and loitering and the black cat that lounges.

Coffee grinds and broken filters and making a mess and vowing, never again.

Crushes on baristas and loud rap music and skinny jeans with rolled cuffs and winter coats over tiny chairs.

Lost keys and found keys and getting locked out.

Laundromats and the one around the corner and warm sheets and everything folded into perfect squares.

A band and the map they found and the purple paints they used and cash only.

Nails and hammer sounds and twinkle lights and holes in the wall to make it feel like home.

Freezing holidays and sending words and songs and pretending not to care.

Brown branches and white pavements and mismatched socks in tall red boots.

Packages and long lines and brown envelopes to neighboring cities and unrequited thoughts.

Heavy yoga mats and grey bikes to nowhere and wet hair and big hoods for hiding.

Short days and mixed feelings and movies under a blanket and storms against the windows.

Nights out and shoes that pinch and drinks that sting plus tears that linger.

Views from the top and stars mixed with towers and waiting for the sun to rise.

Changing seasons and green everything and reading new books on old benches.

A broken foot and a black boot and feeling sorry and slowing down.

Music on an island and feet sinking into mud and songs that melt into skin and quick ferry rides home.

Getting away and late arrivals and a room with a view and white sheets that drown the edges of the bed.

Floating in the ocean and salty hair and sandy shoulders and curls in every direction.

Sleeping in the sun and missing a spot and pink kneecaps and a rosy face that stays.

A ride home and pretty stops and sad songs humming and waiting to hear back.

Nights with no covers or clothes and skin against polka dot sheets and dreams that mimic what’s real.

Saying goodbye and making it quick and keeping the pace and into new neighborhoods.

Crowds pouring over cobble stones and streets named after people and a little bakeshop on the corner.

Brick walls and yellow paints overlapping the whites and two glass doors to the outside.

Early starts and bright eyes and cutting through the park on the way home and taking sweet time.

Leaves that crunch and change and the same old man with his dog waiting at the stairs.

The restaurant on 16th and the familiar smells from their kitchen and weaving through the standstill cars to make it in time.

Keys at the bottom of a bag and finally finding them and heavy doors and the little apartment tucked between.

Getting ready for bed and heavy eyelids and long lists that repeat and turning down the volume.

Blinking through lenses and waiting for the song to end and one last page and feeling like home and saying goodnight to a year.

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