i think of you often;
you're in the back of my mind's eye --
flashes of you in rear-view mirrors,
baited breath and panicked expressions
greeting your memory in good time.
it's nothing you did or didn't do,
i analyze every moment with you
couldn't stop if i wanted to
knowing full well that i can't (and i won't).
your beauty truly is beyond compare
unless my memory serves me ill,
your spirit shines on even now,
i see it when i close my eyes.
i know i'm wrong and you were right
but infantile insecurities inhibit clarity;
drugged by guilt and devastation
i stumble onward and wonder
have i ever crossed your wandering mind's eye?
