I used to go looking for love.
Everywhere.
I found it once, in a space between two teeth,
in a boy who should have been a man.
love left,
it couldn’t linger in a city so depressed.
I left with it.
I haven’t thought about love since.
sometimes I think I feel it,
on sunny days,
when I am driving,
and I feel the sun on my forearm.
Sometimes I smell its memory,
when I recall jasmine scented summers;
night skies pregnant with the potential for romance–
or at least my mind was.
I think I tasted love,
recently,
In a car,
In Mississippi,
it tasted like a man should smell,
sweet, strong, perfect.
Maybe I will never taste another love as sweet.
Or maybe that isn’t how love tastes at all
I used to write love so many letters
now they lie scattered across my room,
lining the bottoms of drawers.
The ink has faded,
I can no longer read what I wanted to say to love,
but it doesn’t matter
love has never written back.
I long to hear love’s voice but I never have,
I used to sing love songs
but I only ever heard the tease of my own voice echoing back in the dark
I wonder
if I follow these footsteps love left on my heart,
where I will find it,
in a gap between teeth,
in the seat of a car,
or somewhere equally unlikely.
I know I will never look for love again,
or at least I don’t believe I will…
Love has left me hangin
too many times,
and I’m too old
to be playin hide and go seek,
and I won’t be thinking about love
anymore
Cuz love
damn sure ain’t
thinkin about me.
