Perhaps if we are to meet again it will be in a different a life and a different body. Perhaps you'll look at me and smile, have a serious case of deja vu, and try again. A true example of second chances.

You're a one night stand
But we spent too many nights
I lost count of it.

You're that unexpected kiss
On a drunken wasted night
Of vomits and *****.

You're that awkward hi
Exchanged by strangers who
Thought they both knew each other
But were clearly mistaken for another.

You're the bruise that turns blue
When I accidentally bump my leg
On the corner of the bed.

You're the scar that I never
Knew I had.

You're the bittersweet taste in
My mouth every morning.

You're the last thought lingering
In my head before slumber takes me
And you're the vagueness that
Haunts me in my dreams.

You're the scalding hot shower
In a cold freezing morning.

You're the boiling tea that numbs
My tongue for the rest of the day.

You're the obsession
I will never learn to let go of.

You're that person I will
Never get to call mine.

You're the one that got away.

And in the darkest of nights,    
In the darkest of nights when not even the moon dares to peak out from its nebulous slumber, the ocean and sky have no beginning or end only black from earth to heaven.
Unlike us, neither ocean nor sky find fault in each others blackberry hues, unlike you the ocean never stopped kissing the shore line no matter the light.

I hope I do not live to see the day
When I could be genuinely
Intensely happy
(Without your approval,
Without your hands ticking my clock,
Without you)
And bump into your sad, empty eyes
Hands waiting for the warmth
Talk to you again
Like we used to

You know I'll be back
Running, breathless
With all your memories in my hand

Late at night I think about this
But then,
I don't want you back
Do not come back.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.