She is the words to my pages,
The smell before the rain,
The waves on the shore every morning,
The cold side of my pillow
The first few tears every night
The soft feeling when I wake up,
And she's the realization
That she's gone
My friends told me to let go
But God, forgive me, but she's just too pretty
Her giggles,
Her smiles in her voice,
Her stuffed toys in her bed
Her eyes
Her lips
But I was too late,
Too bad,
Too much
Too foolish
Too much.
I was too much.
And she's gone.
She's a sob that rumbled in my chest,
The voices in my head
She's the people in photographs,
Staring endlessly, smiling, though not for me.
Not for me anymore.
