In a Puff of Smoke.

You wouldn't look at me twice.
Maybe you don't believe it but
it very seldom happens that
someone should look at me and
come back for more.

But once, someone did.

And I saw them back.
Really really saw them.
And we laughed
because we were so young
and so stupid.

And he loved me.

Maybe he still does.
He still does.
Still does...
Still.

And I remember his lips
and the smell of his hair
and the blue of his eyes.

His voice when he walks
through the house
without his shirt
and sings under his breath.
I pretended it was for me.

And hours with movies
playing in the background
our occasional commentary
drowned out by the quiet
of the love we made.

Valentine's Day.

He made me chocolate covered strawberries.
Cooked me dinner.

All good things
must come to a close.

And I left.

For the Florida sunshine and
the bugs and the sweat.

And he filled up the place where I was.
Once with my greatest friend.

I forgive them.
I miss them.

I miss him.

And all this,
I think about it everyday.
Everyone has a story about
how hurt they've been or how happy.
But you wouldn't look at me twice.


Fine. I didn't want to share that story anyway.