By Shelley Debartolo

Our last night together was somewhat farre to love,

Our living room studio,

Now stacked of magnetic coated films of such nostalgia,

Blooming out their melancholic tunes of what we call 

Wistful,

Dreamy,

Sentimental,

You will come back, I will come back,

Souviens-toi de moi

Because I would have stayed with you through thick and thin

Through cap and gown,

Through piggy banks throwing up into pay back loans,

I would have cuffed you if the cuff was faux gold,

So I leave these cassettes inked in these words

That can be digested as fast as slurping spaghetti 

Beauty without soul, you are the only one, 

And don’t forget to

Souviens-toi de moi

You will come back, I will come back,

A sour, bitter, distanced walk of NYC streets

Shall not define our future