Imprint

Never, never, never do I forget
the simple, flannel-shirted smiles you left
on my doorstep as I watched the sunset
alone, quietly, a painting of theft
creeping slowly across a darkened sky.
I ran through my thoughts, memories of old
parking tickets and thunderstorms that I
danced carelessly into, drenched in the cold
raindrops falling through the air. With laughter
and trees like skyscrapers and Marching Bands
of Manhattan, endless repeat, after
we said good-bye. Now home, with empty hands,
a tinge of bittersweet guilt in my veins,
doesn't appeal to my bright Mary Janes.