For A.P.

It's been a long time since I've missed you,
and a long time since I've stopped to care.
With every new meeting, I lose more and more interest in what was once there.
Why do you stop to tell me you're drunk?
Or make me wonder what's wrong?
Why do you have that knack, for making me miss you when you're gone?
It's not like I still want to hold you,
or be held in your gentle arms
My life has progressed so much,
I don't dare try to remember your charms.
And so I sit here at this ridiculous hour, writing this ridiculous poem.
Because you're gone and you're never coming back, and my heart is still lonely on its own.