Robert A.Cozzi

A collection

Robert A. Cozzi

Robert studied at James Madison University and has kept a handwritten journal since ninth grade, when a teacher first encouraged him to write. He continues the habit today, sharing unedited entries with readers online. His work has appeared in Bending Genres, JanusWords, and Cosmic Daffodil.


Foreword by Sophia Sharkey

Illustrations by Sophia Sharkey


I chose these pieces because they’re clear. Not in structure — in intention. Each one knows exactly where it is and what it’s looking at.


“If Only for a Night” is a rooftop scene from 1990s New York. Two men, one snowstorm, a party downstairs that neither of them wants to return to. It’s about the kind of silence that doesn’t feel awkward. And how much effort it takes to pass as someone you’re not.


“A Blue That Stays” is a clean look at first love — not the romance of it, but what’s left after. It moves like someone tracing their way back to a feeling they knew was already out of reach.


“Transcendentalism on a Subway Train” comes from a dream about the writer’s best friend who died. It reads like walking through something that hasn’t caught up to you yet. No metaphor, no sentiment. Just the facts, in the order they appeared.


The illustrations follow that same logic. The city is shown how it feels at night: slightly too wide, too still, too bright in the wrong places. The people are never centred. That was the point.


— Sophia Sharkey

Editor & Illustrator, The Page Gallery


If Only for a Night


Tonight’s snow is my blanket


I don’t want to go back inside because there is a loud drinking game happening there


For a minute, I consider suggesting you join them since all your friends are inside


But I choose to stay quiet because I want you out here with me


On this rooftop


Watching the snow fall


The flakes are big, the way I like my snow


Your eyes are big too, the way I like my eyes


We haven’t spoken a word since coming out here


And you haven’t stopped twisting the ring on your finger either


It looks like it’s your college ring or maybe it’s your high school ring


I should ask


Where are your winter gloves?


Should I offer you mine?


Or is that too much and too weird of a gesture?


All night long I’ve hidden in plain sight – trying to make everyone here think I am one of them


Until I saw you


Until you held my eyes


Until you suggested we escape from the others


I like how neither one of us rushes to fill the silence


Aren’t words sometimes overrated?


It’s hard to know where you end, and the actor begins


Because until we locked eyes


I assumed you were with the strawberry blonde who had her chin on your shoulder


I watch as you write the word fear on your cocktail napkin.


You fold it into a square


Then you take out your lighter and light the napkin and toss it on the ground.


When it hits the snow


It sizzles and disappears


Instinctively, my hand reaches for yours


At the same time yours reaches for mine


It feels good to bring warmth to your hands


It feels good to share this wintery city night with you


It feels good to speak the same silent language


It feels good to live the life we deserve – if only for a night



A Blue That Stays


I trace my fingers along the outer perimeter of the map


Where there is a blue that surrounds it


A blue that stays in the middle of my dreams


Letting smooth, sculpted sea glass swim atop white capped waters


On their way home


Where am I going without you?


Have I made enough peace with the past to look forward without losing my grip on the present?


Perhaps this unmapped future of mine isn’t meant to be navigated alone


Perhaps solitude has never been the right destination after all


Oh, how I long to be entangled in the lines of your life


How I long to breathe the air you breathe


And sail whereon you sail beyond a sea of memories without end


So, for you and for all the sins I’m willing to commit


I would ride these same waves


Collecting blue sea glass


For days and days


Just for the chance


To stand beside you all over again




Transcendentalism on a Subway Train


As the train speeds through the cracks of the New York night


My eyes doze in and out of a one-eyed sleep


You stagger down the subway aisle


Trying your best to walk with the pitch of the train


To the end of the car


This sight of you leaves me gawking


With my heart pounding so hard it hurts


The reflection I see in the window shows the years


I look worn, tired, and old


Am I dreaming?


I stand


Unwilling to accept the ambiguity of what I just saw


I walk carefully to the end of the car


Until the train lurches and I am nearly thrown onto your lap


I look down and see you, a lookalike


Tall, handsome, dressed in Armani


But you’re not Derek


I peer behind me


Staring back at the way I’ve come


Then back at you


I almost believe you’re Derek


I want to believe you’re my late best friend


You say something in Italian


I look at you openly in the eyes


Because it’s important not to be wrong


Once I return to my seat at the other end of the car


I am unnerved


Feeling like I’ve just had a near death experience


I decide never to mention this to anyone


Choosing instead to open my journal and write


How part of me will never be sure