Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Dear Amie






To begin the past
You never had luck
I never had a look
To spare. Evenings
My red president's
Rotary phone rang
of you. For me, for you,
With unspoken hope
For just a little more.
Times moved fast.
You held your path
As I lived hard and quick.
It took years to meet
You for the first time
Again and again
My phone rang of you
Now in my pocket.
The vibrations felt new
As we were both new.
We stayed connected
And for what its worth
The mild tones were real.
The third floor passion
And Malibu lip locks
Between sea winds
Were all very real.
We had things.
Things to do, things
For each other and things
To let go of for each other.
You let go of my past
And released your guard
But I couldn't let go
Of a breathing pain
That knew of love lost
And so I left you
Before I could ever
Love you and now
I've lost you,
My sorrow barely sorry.


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