"Run the water 'til it scalds. You know that I'm listening. Pitter-patter runs the shower, hits the bare porcelain, watch the dirt run down the plughole, hear an echo within. They'd described you nude in detail, I knew everything: an artist's impression of the Manhattan Skyline and a soon to be burn scar, in the perfect shape of the sooner state. I fall to my knees. My piss-soaked jeans. The first time, the last time, all the times in-between. The first time, the last time, all the times I would've like there to have been. 
I can't believe I chose the mountains every time you chose the sea".