Brian Copsey 33 y/o

A room, a job.

The new city had so far treated him with reserved courtesy.
Putting the pins down slowly and under sedation.

After settling in and shaving his head he got a letter.
He'd pay for the abortion and he did.
This new city, it didn't belong to him, he borrowed it.
Smoking packs of cigarettes he realized he was lost.
The signs pointing home, he couldn't understand them.

Undressing, he forgets and starts over.
This time, not going to bed with her.

Wiring the money, this was going to be his home.
Like Hansel following the trail back.

In bars he met people, he took notes and they asked him what they were for.
He asked them back, "If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?".
Leaving early, the answer would never be, "Here".

A girl who looked like her stole his jacket,
she tried to remember his face while reading the notes,

"We are sinking deeper every day. The hopes of the future eats us alive as the past tries to let us go, but can't."

Smoking his cigarettes, she said, "Really?".