The Clutter in your Bedroom

Summer

Are you the Season about which I write most?

Because you feel longer than Winter,
And yet...


Every year I forget to do the things I said I would


Not enough



Not enough

Not enough...

I think about the fact that the last woman in your bed wasn't me.
["Did you want me to tell you we sucked each other's faces off?"]

I.

I just wanted you to kiss me the way you did at the beginning.

[One more time]

So I can know it's the end.