you said something that i've never forgotten

on a rooftop in brooklyn
at one in the morning
watching the lights flash
in manhattan

i see fire bridges
the empire state building
and you said something
that i've never forgotten

we lean against railings
describing the colors
and the smells of our homelands
acting like lovers

how did we get here
to this point of living
i held my breath
you said something

and i'm doing nothing wrong
riding in you car
the radio playing
we sing up to the eighth floor

on a rooftop manhattan
one in the morning
you said something
that i've never forgotten

you said something
you said something
you said something
that was really important

have you ever noticed the immense power of words. how something can be said, even a few syllables, in person, in a letter, typed, written, whispered, bled, and everything can just change. or everything can stay the same. go on. or not. but those words, no matter how you try to set them free, they live in the deep folds of your skin. in the taste of life. in the wallpaper of your soul.

i know, for me, i have this insatiable need for words. for that language to ricochet from all corners of my mind, my ears, my lips. i always feel the deep recesses of who i am, overwhelming, over-flowing. i always have so damn much to say. and so much i want to have said. i want to be the catalyst for all the words of everyone to come spilling out. all over. all over me. i feel this need to know. to know so much. to learn. and to hear the flowing of words. again and again.

i hold so many words that have been said inside of me. they sneak out in so much of who i am. in my breathing. in my writing. in the way i think. the way i react. so many nights i lie in bed, sleepless, replaying so many words. over and over. and i dissect too much. i evaluate too much. i read to much into words. but it is who i am. how i am. my own breed of insanity, i suppose.