|
|
|
| Poet: William Phoebe Woods |
| Category: Angel |
| |
|
I walk past your old house every day
I remember our times together
But by the way you erased me from your life
I'd have to say that they are primarily my times
One sided
It must be the case
Or else you'd still acknowledge me
Acknowledge my children
I see the basement room where we'd watch Letterman and Carson
Light of blue TV haze casting shadows upon our most intimate of parts
But it never was about the gooey earthy stuff
It was more cerebral
More like a museum
I wonder who sleeps in your late adolescent room nowadays
Does the person realize the memories that go with the place
Probably not
And it is sad that I think of you still
But just know that I'm not crazy
I'm not deluded into thinking we still have anything
Or that you'll miraculously want to be with me
I don't think I'd even want that
You are a different you now
I am sure of that
I guess I just wish that I could call you and say something
Say anything at all
And hear you respond
You were always my conscience
Maybe that's what drove you away
Too much responsibility being someone's conscience
Sorry about that
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
