I remember you playing your
guitar the day he died, by
the fire in your backyard.

Everyone was through with
crying. Neither of us cried
because that’s just not who
we are. But if he could have
heard you playing your tunes,
I’m sure he would have shed a
tear for you.

Temptation
lured us in with its embrace.

Perhaps the passion we had,
our act of small departs,
was not worth all this
pain. Worth the guilt and
shame we brought on to our
broken hearts. But you will
never love me the way you
loved him. I know you will
never stop loving him.

Everything about you entices
me. Your *******, and your
thighs, your bright eyes in
the moonlight. And in your
voice there’s a sullenness.

We both have that. We both
lost souls on those dark
nights. But we looked past
it all and sat in your
backyard by the fire
as you played your guitar.