it's been 6 years since you last seen her
8, since you last talked
you wonder where she is, or how she's doing
you left with no goodbye, no let's keep in touch

it's Sunday evening and you miss her,
sitting on your terrace wishing you could kiss her,
wondering in whose arms she slept last night,
you stare into your half-filled glass of coffee and notice the resemblance to her eyes, her dark brown eyes you never thought were special

all you can think about is the sound of her laugh and how she loved to hold your hand
you know on her shoulders she carried the world
she didn't have much to offer but she promised you her world
so fragile yet certain to keep going
a universe as big as this, she always talked of meant to be
I guess we weren't, you think to yourself

as you light another cigarette you wish you had kissed her
she told you she loved you and you panicked, letting her slip through your fingers and now wishing you had held on to her a little tighter
all you can think about is who else is kissing her, does she tell strangers about him and write poems about his eyes?

the sun has set, your mug is empty yet your heart is filled with regret and anger
you know you can't get her back now
you know you've never seen eyes as beautiful as hers,
you just hope she's laying in the right arms,
even if you're not

i know it may not mean much to you,
but when you touch me, i can’t breathe.

your finger graced my arm, accidentally,
but i swear, you meant it.
right?

you grabbed my hand and ran with me.
but you also held it, gently, and walked with me for miles.

when it rained, you gave me your hoodie.
i still have it.
it smells like you.

i would do anything,
for just one night.

to show you.
to be in your arms.

to breathe your breath,
to touch your skin.

when you touch me, i know i love you.

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

She looks good in the moonlight,
Nothing like I've ever seen.
But I've been lost inside,
At least that's what it seems.

Her hair shines in the daytime,
Blinds me of all confidence.
But I can't really fight it,
I'm stuck frozen unless,

She can open her heart,
And give me a way in.
Cause I yearn to love,
All that she is.

There's only so much,
That you can tell someone,
Before your hands meet,
And realize they're the one.

You may not see it,
Cause she still feels lonely,
But she doesn't realize,
That she is your only.

I wanted to tell you stories.
Whispered to you in dreams.
Written love letters.
Pressed into your skin.
I fear though that I’m not a great storyteller.
Your kisses seemed to forgive.

Oh please, not sunshine and 'here I sit" blank-page laments
Season-change ballads and idle-moment thoughts.
My muses are all sedentary and lethargic,
Only speaking up to demand another grape
Fed from dangling fingers.

Sure, the sun is streaming nicely in the window
And a reluctant spring has given way
To summer-like days, as I sit and ponder.
But the tropes and exclaims of 'excelsior!'
Aren't going to cut it this time.

Gold-leafed chaises longues and silver goblets
Are stacked haphazardly on the sidewalk
A pile of plus-sized togae thrown into the mix
A cardboard box of minstrels' greatest hits vinyl too.
The bums are sent packing
And my poem is concluded.

It's scary,
The more I think about it,
The more it makes sense.
Maybe it is the only way out.
Maybe.

My mind is screaming at me,
As my eyes overflow with tears,
All alone in my dark room,
Music the only sound prevailing.

Maybe it's time I give in,
It isn't about having the strength to do it anymore,
It's about having strength to carry on.

But I've always been weak.