I can still see you.
Standing on your porch,
finishing a cig and watching the sun drop.
I am made of the distance in your eyes
as you carefully search the painted skies
looking for a promise that
she’ll never say goodbye.
I am built of the pain
that comes with knowing
that, in fact, she didn’t
and she never will.
I am frozen with the silence
that is her voice, forever still.
Those nights we should have been there
wrapped up and stamped with “don’t care”
are what she left behind.
You stare into the sunset
and pray for the bombs in your mind
but they don’t
and I can still see you.