I think I cared too much
I put so much in
and things never changed
I knew that you couldn't possibly know
And I thought it was me
couldn't be her, couldn't be
It's always me...it's me
Sky sparkle and stop.
stop... dead stop

after the books and coffee, days of the same
then, suddenly
nothing but an absence
an absence guided by her word
first, time, but now a freedom
A freedom through her eyes lacked...
through mine, given, and supported
even too a point of pain
And it hurt
I said I'd wait
but why? I'm sitting in her pocket
And this absence is forcing me to forget.
she's gone, here, and there
And the occasional phone call
certainly won't jog my memory.

I would have given the world given time
I ask the other party
to find the reason why feeling unravelled
Or if it even did
for guise has no longer stood
As I sit here, waiting to leave
As I sit here, remembering my longing
As I Sit HeRe... forgetting.
It's 3:46 a.m., on a clock off
by a few minutes
And I'm forgetting.

07/06/2002

Author's Note: To A. Alana Not a great poem. Just something I wanted to say to her at the time.

Posted on 03/30/2004
Copyright © 2024 Jared Winkler