What do I have left?
I have a ticket stub from our first date;
I have a scar on my thigh from the Sunday I met your family for the first time;
I have a whole lot of memories that tap on my window on the worst of possible evenings.
Evenings when I can feel the cool September wind on my shoulder,
seeing a whole lot of red
with a replay of how our summer fell apart in my head.
I have your name
and the hush tone apology you gave me in the dark still suffocating the blood in my veins;
I have sleepless nights
and my fair share of moments I wish that I could change;
I have pictures from the night you took my wasted mind home and tucked yourself into bed with me;
I have sad eyes that remember the look on your face when you kissed me goodbye for the last time;
and I have a calender that beats me down
trying to get it through to me that it's fall.
So don't bother asking me what day it is
because I'll still tell you that it's June 23rd
and your grandparents were absolutely darling tonight.