I’m sitting in a rocking chair glass in hand
drunk on alcohol and drunk on thoughts
and all I can think about is the way
I placed flowers on your collarbones
that morning by the creek –
a lifetime ago
You offered him the daisies I plucked for you
from the far side of the mountain
in a heartbeat giving away
the flowers we had spent lifetimes
planting
And all I can muster to say
with my drunken thoughts
through a telephone call on a drunken whim –
“You forgot your flowers.”

if only you knew
what i see when
i see your smile

if only you knew
what i felt
that one rainy day

if only you knew
how i feel
and what you mean to me

if only you knew
i went through the motions
of falling in love

if only i could tell you
if only i weren't afraid
if only
if only

i wrote this for you

More often than sometimes
there are days when I wake up
on the wrong side of the bed
and leave a piece of myself on my pillow
or perhaps in my dreams
I drag on for the rest of the day
as three-fourths a person
and one-fourth empty
up until the day is done and it’s time to sleep
then I find that piece of me