I remember you playing your guitar the day he died, by the fire in your backyard.
Everyone was through with crying. Neither of us cried because that’s just not who we are. But if he could have heard you playing your tunes, I’m sure he would have shed a tear for you.
Temptation lured us in with its embrace.
Perhaps the passion we had, our act of small departs, was not worth all this pain. Worth the guilt and shame we brought on to our broken hearts. But you will never love me the way you loved him. I know you will never stop loving him.
Everything about you entices me. Your breasts, and your thighs, your bright eyes in the moonlight. And in your voice there’s a sullenness.
We both have that. We both lost souls on those dark nights. But we looked past it all and sat in your backyard by the fire as you played your guitar.
as you played your guitar.