Towns known only by lovers' beds,
each set of sheets labeled with a memory.
I will always love your dog.
The last turn down the last road
before I am at your door.
Places taken by association,
friends that were never mine to begin with.
Their absence worse than yours.
Recognition of faces that should never
have been photographed in my mind.
These paths are so well traveled I can walk them in my dreams.
You don't have to tell me that counting minutes from
my door to yours
is as good as counting
days until goodbye.
I like your poems.It sounds as though you understand about depression.Would you like to read a few of my poems? Let me know what you think?
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