I hate to say I 'gave' it away.
There's nothing to say about whatever
I lost.

I'd like to lose the thing I
finally got.

I have been growing memories of it
like weeds in the rain,
Coming up through cracks
in a parking lot.

The only thing I lost that night
was the thought that being touched by you
would change my life. It has not.

It has added to my poetry.
But not a lot.
Another thing to say and write:
"I've been touched."
So what.
It happens every night and day.

I've been touched
In every way. Been kissed,
Shown bliss.
And still nothing to say.