WASTED

You may find me on the balcony

Where you photographed me long ago

Caught in the skyline of our September sorrows

You may find me resting there

Admiring the pink house across the lake

You will hear my voice laugh your name

And then you shall wake

In haunted tangled bed sheets

Forever laced with my essence:

Sangria and neroli

Then you will search for me in song

And everywhere except prayer

Perhaps with a little faith you could have kept me there

You will search for me again in the eyes of an old flame

To delay the inevitable challenge of finding someone new

She’s a little older, so she doesn’t share my spirit

She’s a little colder, and she doesn’t share my wit

But her hair is my same shade of summer

And she doesn’t fight back when you hit

You will follow the echoes of tiny footsteps

The ghosts of tiny feet that once danced across your floor

And you will try and phone me

But that’s not my number anymore

I may find you on the balcony

Where I watched you smoke at night

And remember how you teased me

For walking on my toes all the time

I may find you down the street in our sleepy hometown

Or in Louisiana holding my hand as we learned our way around

But the last time I ever saw you smile was in the white sands of Cozumel

As we sat dazed at a bar unsure if we were in love or if we were in hell

But no longer will I follow the smoke that always ribbons from your kiss

Or chase the smell of coconuts wafting from your hair

It’s impossible to follow the ghost of one who was never completely there

So I won’t call your number

I don’t want any of your time

Oh, but I’ll always cherish those summers I wasted

Getting wasted with that first love of mine