Sometimes, when I sit long enough, I think
of you sitting with me, like you used to
I think of how we used to talk to each other,
our lips, almost touching, almost in a kiss.
I always think of how warm your lips are.
Sometimes, when I lay in the dark, I think
of how you would lay next to me, just looking
into my eyes, with that half smile on your lips,
your fingers, lightly, touching my face.
Sometimes, when I walk by myself, I think
of holding your hand, again, like I used to, when you wanted me to, when you would let your own hand
seek out mine. Always.
Sometimes, when I look at you, I think
of when you would hold me when I got home, everyday, all the time. You would wrap yourself around me, kiss me, and call me "Baby." I miss that.
Sometimes, when I miss you, I think
of how much you used to tell me you missed me, all day long, everyday. Give that back to me, Babe.
Give me that love you had for me, because I don't want to live without it. Not anymore. Not anymore.
Sometimes, when I brush by you, I think
about when we couldn't, wouldn't, keep our hands off each other, at anytime, or anyplace. You would smile so much when I touched you then. Now, you don't smile,
you don't touch me, and you won't let me touch you.
Sometimes, when I love you, I think
about how I can't stop. I don't know how. I don't want
to know how, but I know, someday, I'm going to have to. Now, that will be a day. That will be THE day. I do
hope... you let yourself think of me, once in while.
