I wanted to write down a poem today.
So I sat down, pen and paper in hand
And cried.

This was not a poem that I was trying to make up,
In fact, I knew every line.
Every beat.
Every inflection that you would use.

It is so hard
To put your kiss
Onto paper
When you're not around anymore.

Feeling the need to trade this two for an eight
In exchange for a flush or even a straight,
I'd settle on sand; any hand, two pair;
but life on the river is seldom but fair

I'm self conscious,
But then
Your eyes find me.
We stare,
Then look away.
But still,
The moment stays.