Things I Can Never Tell Him, or You, or Him, or Me pt. 3

Coffee stained papers,

come to take me home.

He drinks and he loves me,

he loves me and he drinks,

I'd much rather he loved me

or drank,

but not both.

It's a bit much for me to handle,

kind of like coffee stained papers,

my life is clean and neat

and all the paragraphs are justified,

and don't get me wrong,

I like messes,

just not on my papers

or my heart.

So here I write,

trying to ignore the football brown stains,

and hope that he'll text me soon

so I can tell him I love him once more.

I listened to a song today

that you sent me years ago,

and it doesn't even feel like a lifetime has passed,

but a lifetime has gone

and now I'm in his arms and you're in hers alone.

You never did write me those letters

that you promised you would from prison,

I guess you never committed any crimes.

I'm smiling

and I miss you.

I always will miss you, my love,

but not my only love.

His hazel eyes are green in the light,

and his arms are strong

and safe,

and he'll never send me songs I'll listen to years from now,

but he's the trunk of an oak while you were the gentle

brush of a willow in the autumn breeze.

You might have loved me once long ago,

but all that's gone in the wind now.

A lifetime ago I listened for you,

and now in his bed I sleep

and dream of waterfalls in the snow.