Each time you recoil
to your northern roots
I am enamored.
Floored.
Caught in your web
like a leaf who's path,
being carved by the wind,
is brought to a sudden
and urgent 
stop.

We were only together
for what seemed like years.
But that was years ago.
And eventually we called it a day.
There have been
other girls since,
but none as calm,
kind
or gentle as you were. 
As you still are.

Every time I move past it
you retreat back home.
And Just like that,
the fuse is relit.
Like that night,
two years ago, in Boyds basement.
We didn't even kiss, but we did sleep
together. Side by side.
My arms around you.

I remember telling you
that I was in love. 
You were the first women
I ever shared those words with.
Im fairly positive that when you packed 
for Georgia
my heart was tucked away in your baggage.
It has resided in Atlanta
ever since.