I rarely ever think of you,
and soft kisses,
gentle touches,
laughing eyes,
and furtive glances.

Except when I
sit in a bar with friends,
or sit home alone.
Go to church.
Go to work.
Go to sleep.
Wake up.
Other than that, I rarely ever
think of you at all.

I’ve had so many
cuts and stabs and
holes punched in me
by the women who
passed through my life,
that when a new one
comes along and
we drink a toast to us
I leak all over
everything we try to be.

Another grain of sand
on a summer beach
waiting on a midnight tide.

Another leaf
on an autumn tree
waiting on a winter wind.

Another flake of snow
in a winter storm
waiting on a warmer sun.

Another drop of rain
in a spring shower
waiting to evaporate

We are all just waiting
for whatever takes us
forever away.

Do not say I’m handsome –
I know too well I’m not,
with tracks of time to mark
the memories I’ve got.

Say instead you’ll stay a while
And let me share your touch.
There’ve been too many through the years
that would not give that much.

Love is an hourglass,
the slow trickle
of a relationship
building like flowing sand.

A couple grains of smile,
a few more grains of kiss,
a lot of grains of laugh,
some grains of holding hands.

Each grain of sand,
memories of another
“moments like this”
grain of together

The flowing pile grows
‘til one says I love you.
And one answers back
I love you too.

Two loves diverged in the words, and I
I was the one that said goodbye.

And now, for countless nights
Long since gone by
I sit and wonder why.

There is a struggle
deep in my gut –
between the lie that
I don’t miss you
and reality

A battle between
believing that
I don’t really need you
and the fact
that I really do.

A war between
I will forget you
and the fear
I never will.