Seven

Somewhere in his smile he knows that I don't need no other lover.

For you. For us.

As the years stretch across the skyline,
Words are whispered in the night and scratched across pages
Bound together and rustling in the wind.
Our tale continues in front - at our feet,
While the street sweepers brush away the lonely nights from
The path left behind.

I can't remember a me without you.

Lines of lost and forgotten love poems run across my mind
Longing to make them mine and ours.
All of it is fluff and stuffing.
I could lengthen this dedication: pluck images of
Angels and roses and jewels and stars and moons and suns and silks
From the lips of the dead.
When what I have to say is simple and concise.

I love you.

And I love you still.