Your past girl brought you so much joy

You miss who you were when you were with her

We're still together for now

But your girl is coming to town

It’s pathetic you know
How much you rely on words
I could wipe my a$$ with flowers
Hand them to you
Call it a bouquet
And you’d giggle
Happily accept it
With an innocent smile on your face

Sitting on the bench
under this weeping willow,
I talk to you.
As I throw my voice across
the breeze catches my words,
and brings them back to me.

I make
watercolor images of you
on my paper.
Stroke after stroke,
using shades that I like
to fill the crevices and gaps within me.

Tonight I throw pebbles idly
into the stream.
As fishes gather around them
I talk about us to the moon.