Puddles.

Tears of melting cinnamon and something sweeter than the coffee you adored

Nothing I could have said would have brought you back,

But just maybe,

This was for the best.

 

Puddles.

All the things that remind me of you, now stuffed into my canvas duffle bag

It’s time for this nomad to get all packed up and to head on home.

It’s funny though, because I sincerely thought that you were my home.

 

Puddles.

The warmth of your voice and the sound of your skin

And all my senses blended into one, jumbled by the thought

Of how much bliss I had gained from your kisses and your caring.

 

Puddles.

I think back to the times when you held me in your arms;

“I will always love you,” you said, but that was never true.

It seems more accurate to say “I will always love you.”