Back East

You will have to leave me--
one of life's few guarantees.
Pack up your camera, notebook and guitar,
pulling out a smoke as you say it's not that far.
And I will taste you in my mind
long after I've been left behind,
knowing that, at most, I'll get to be
that funny little girl who kissed you once back east.

Idyllic nights like that one:
so late gone I caught the sun.
And you were you, but then, not quite,
talking parts of me at times.
I could've sworn we'd loved before,
blankets strewn across the floor;
maybe you'll remember this, at least-
that funny little girl who held you once back east.

Driving slow through silent woods,
I was giving what I could;
wanting you, yet certain too,
we were lost before we're through.
I cannot give in only parts-
too much shared to save this heart.
Promise, when you leave, to take a tiny peace
of that funny little girl who loved you once back east.

What strength it takes to let you go
is not something I want to know.
Standing still, head tipped to the sky,
your eyes are planning your next ride.
The stars are clearer somewhere west;
I am not who puts your heart at rest.
Maybe, one day, there'll be a song for me-
that funny little girl who lost you once back east.

**PS: one of my favorite efforts. Written about someone who was a total waste of time, aside from the fact that I created this poem because of him. Thanks, Cowboy.