I see all the things we never said in my breath on a cool september morning with the moon on my doorstep. Tender and tepid, mists of whispers that round your limbs to the tree tops and fade into the pale blue skies of every day where I find you waiting in a long dress with and sweater round your hips and a thousand tiny glossed buttons that fall to the floor in perfectly folded closets with white pine hangers and the memories of once upon a time.
Philosopher Kings and parking lots, train rides and the sleepless nights…and ‘the girl who’s in my bed will hear the words I should have said…’, you know the song.
I have you
until I breathe again and you are gone.