The Sound Of Leaving

oh to run my finger down her cheek
to trace her face
burn her essence into tactile memory
whisper secrets
let down my guard
like a boxer about to be sucker punched
let her in to see the real me
not the swollen knuckles
and running mass of scars

but the me that writes poetry
that smells the flowers
exclaims at the power of their scent
the way the trees sway in a breeze
to hold her to my chest
slow dance in the setting sun

drive with
windows down
hand in the air
waiting for the moment
when atmosphere shifts
and the temperature drops enough so you can feel it
I want to carry her over the threshold
place her gently down and caress her earthiness
tease her for hours
stare into the liquid pools of blue that drown
me in their depth as I breathe the scent of heather

and even as she walks away I dare not say
any of this

So I grab a beer and drown my thoughts
breathe a sigh
resigned to lie and pretend
she's just a friend