Love me wrong, love me right

Love me wrong, love me right


We met in New York city on Wednesday. Once friends, now strangers. She loved the Chelsea hotel and we would find a tavern near. Talk of Leonard Cohen and Joplin. She loved the old songs and she loved to dance in the street when the wine kicked in. I was hiding like Salinger tried and she was giving in, to a greedy world.


I told her. She was more pretty than 10 years ago, when we met at Fort lee. She smiled and she told me. You whisper pretty words to me, make me wish to be foolish and to believe. In the old days, you promised me everything and today I want no empty promises. Please promise me nothing, promise me everything.


I want you to make my brown eyes to come alive again, come alive with hope. Make my skin burn with desire once more. Love me wrong, love me right. Can you? Dear Poet, life is short and can be sweet. Can be bitter? I need some laughter and some hope. You are my last chance to feel free and wild. I’m dying my dear friend.


I took her to the sea. We danced with the moving Atlantic and the kind sun warm our bodies and our hearts. I told her. Love, the kindest and sweetest gift, rarely attempted. let’s trick the Gods of life. Make them believe we have found love and joy. You and I were lost. I was seeking solitude and you were seeking profit.


Tonight, you and I, will seek and find the old ways and the old dreams. Maybe we can find our smile, our laughter and the ability to see what we truly are.


Two people sat by the Atlantic. No words, just hand connected and hearts rebuilding.