It must feel nice to know

It's not every night that I dream
much less the times that they are remembered.
So when they are about you I have to ask
if it's you that makes them happen
or if there is some part of me
deep down inside hidden from my own eye
that still misses you.

What do I miss?
A gentle touch as we pass a cigarette
back and forth our fingers slightly graze
the touch of skin to skin.
The stink of your dirty clothes
or hair unwashed for days
a gentle smile
half crooked teeth
to me you were perfect in every way.

I miss the elongated nights
made short by our alcohol consumption
I never drank like I did with you
and somehow I miss that.


Why do you come to mind as often as you do
when we both know you've given up
even though you took my heart with you.
It's not easy to forget the good things
my mistake is that the bad I often do.
That is what love does I guess
blinds one to be a fool.