I can't fantasize about a summer by myself;
Sunglasses and an orange-gold tinted world,
Wind through the windows and blonde curls,
Crickets, midnight picinics and an
Entire week of balmy silence spent together in a
White bed and a city bathtub.
Then it was new and fresh and felt
Different and meaningful and real,
But you were exactly the same only
you were too liberal with your words.
And it will go back to the way it was
before we knew each other,
Only now it will mean something when
I don't say "Hi," to you.
Whatever this is that has been left over
in my chest since January
Has been an extra 20 pounds in the morning,
an extra 50 at night and
An extra 1000 every time someone says your name...
It was a thing that had an ending waiting to come
since the beginning.
Now you're someone else's warm chest,
The taste on someone else's morning breath.
I guess it just lost its meaning to you and apparently
so did I.
