the boy who claims to be a man.

Everytime I see a white truck
I'm reminded of your father
& That small winding road
When my mother drove you home
in the early morning hours.
Time moved too quickly in the backseat
when in those moments all I wanted
was you.

I'm trying out honesty.
I don't want to lose grasp on these
movie clips behind my eyes.
But I can't remember all the
words we softly spoke,
I just believe
its better this way.

I do recall my head on your chest,
how warm your skin always is,
& how small your hands are
whether you like it or not.

I can fee the nights we spent sleeping on the floor,
the rain as we leaned against the garage door,
every conversation sent over telephone lines
never to be heard again.

I tell myself this is how I will keep you.
Endless summer minutes, nothing to do.
Except discover what breathing was for
including the ("iloveyous") ("pleasedontleavemes")
& ("itwillhappeneventuallys")
so it did.

But I remember that dream you had of new york
where we talked like old lovers
deja vu, darling, we were star crossed
never meant to reconcile.

(But I've made my peace
never to forget your name.)