Why do we reminisce
About faces with sad brown eyes and pouty lips
Warm hugs, taste in wine
Harmonious musical tastes
What is the point of going backwards to beauty
When there were moments of tragic inconsideration
Obviously noncommittal lifestyle choices?
Why do the shiny, slick thoughts persist
When the pain was so much more pungent?
He liked the same music as me
He was only a little taller
He was a flirt
He was a connoisseur
He gave me a Tom Robbins book
I wonder how many women have Tom Robbins books
I don’t know why
I just don’t
He’s a sad case of singlehood
He will never father his own
Never spread roots
But there was something
Our limited time was full
Formative years under the same roof
History made us closer
When certain songs play
I am taken back
I still think of him first
When they weren’t your first
Or a reason you moved across town
Or the closest thing to real
When the most significant thing they ever did was leave you alone in your car and disappear
Why would you feel something you would have liked to be love?
Why would you hold on to a single thing?