"This is for all the people I’ll never meet. This is for the person I
might have kissed had I taken a different subway line on Saturday and the
person I might have been if that boy hadn’t broken my mother’s teenage heart.
This is for the people I would have loved if last winter hadn’t been so cold
and for the city I would have called home if I had written haiku's on napkins
and carried pens in dress pockets and in the knots of my hair.
This is for who I was, who I am, who I might be.
This is for you."
This is for who I was, who I am, who I might be.
This is for you."
