It's nights like these,
when I remember I still love you.
Sitting alone with the lights turned off,
staring at the ceiling and picturing
Your green eyes instead.

Your eyes were a field of flowers
and I wanted to pick each one,
and put them in a vase and let them grow
for hours by the window in the sun.
They were a lawn freshly mowed,
a gemstone’s watery jealousy.

Your deep voice spoke slowly,
like you wanted to pick each word individually.
I waited patiently for your thoughts
because it showed that you cared,
and I desperately wanted you to care about me.

Your long legs left me speechless,
the pure beauty of your skin
stretched over your knees.
I was weak when I marveled
at the way the muscles in your thighs
strained when you sprinted towards your future,
away from here.

Your stomach was thin and smooth.
Your tattoos used to dance under my fingertips
and the muscles around your belly button would
tighten when I placed my hand on your chest.
Your hiccuping breaths reminded me of home.

You had such big hands,
Yet, your fingers we so delicate
when they wrapped around mine.
You never let my hands go freezing in the winter,
and I never wanted the winter to end.

But soon the flowers grew,
and you went away,
and I was left staring at my ceiling and picturing
Your green eyes instead.