fingers against my lips, your touch and chills
don’t speak — i feel words beginning to slip
i’m not glib, i’m not something you can hit and quit
but for some reason i still write to the tune of you
they say some poems are better left unread
that some thoughts are better left unsaid
you could cut off my head, lie my body in the bed of an old pickup
but you’ll never kill my spirit or take my words
here, forever and always
roaming hallways, writing stories about empty doorways
the awkward and all the holidays
back to florida, august and coffee
the way the water crept upon me
i still taste your lips, your breath and the thoughts unsaid
how we never baked that pizza, the sauce and how i sat at loss
my thoughts shoot across, you know i’d never double cross
that i’d hold your hand through cancer and even if i never had the right answer
you know i’m always here, forever and after
i realize every factor and know this life’s just another chapter
i believe somewhere, sometime — maybe in madagascar
it’ll register why and who knows, maybe a few seconds later i’ll die
but my eyes will see the light, they’ll understand right and wrong
i’ll comprehend the song, but more importantly why i loved you all along
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