I told you I had feelings for you
between two cigarettes, because sometimes one won't do.
I watched you suspend yours in the stagnant air
and two fingers over, your ring was glistening there.
We came inside off the porch, anything but confused.
My feeling ashamed, a bit familiar, yet somehow new.
I could have explained my lack of agenda until I'm dead,
but you trusted me, and we wrote poems instead.
We are the sum of the things we've seen and the people we chose to keep.
The only reason anyone loves anybody else
is to better understand how to love themselves.
We are the sum of the things we've seen and the people we chose to keep.
And yes, we lose touch with our friends.
But we don't stare in disbelief.
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