Raindrops on the toe tips of brown leather shoes

It smells like I should be inside, reading.

She comes in a jeep I know well
and when she and I collide in a hug,
the engine still running
I can see the old thing winking at me like it knows
she is the steadiest ******* this planet

A fellow sunshine swallower
she chews up the moon
and eats the mountains, too
eats up all the blackness in  my chest, too

Two schools states away
she hugs the same, always.

Some things, the soul cannot forget, no matter how the hard the heart practicality begs it to
things like black motor oil water
like freckles against light green eyes
like the last time I saw her, the last time there were raindrops
on the toes of my brown leather shoes
and she drove away in that jeep
and I got on a plane

There is no other pain like heartbreak.

Heartbreak is not falling out of love, it is not loneliness
It is the addition of somebody else’s story in your mouth, with no one to tell it to;
Silence in it's worst form.

But as she stands here, holding me, it is quiet
quiet relief

Imagine it:
Raindrops on the toe tips of brown leather shoes
the smell of a grey afternoon
an old jeep
and a girl



--But she is states away again, today--