Thursday, April 07, 2011
I'm reluctant to let you go.
I wonder where I will find my warmth at night.
I'll miss your extra-large t-shirts
and the pungent, smell of your deodorant.
I'll miss the way your lips look when you say "smoke"
and the way your love handles fit my hands.
I'll miss the way you pick your teeth after a big meal with your credit card,
scratch your balls in public,
and clip your toenails in bed.
Oh yes, and your foul smelling feet.
I'll probably miss those most of all, my love.
But I won't miss the way you play with my hair.
Or those sweet, salty, morning kisses.
I won't miss your hand on the small of my back,
or on the curve of my neck,
or resting in the palm of my hand.
I won't miss the way you whisper in my ear
or the way you defend me, and don't worry,
I won't even miss your unconditional love.
No, I won't miss that at all.
Not one little bit.