I never really noticed
how the sun we'd waited for
never really shone until
you were gone.
I never really noticed
how the flowers I'd wanted
and the surprises I'd dreamed of
would have been mine had I
finally let you go.

She was waiting for you
like a bowl of pudding,
but she fizzed with alcohol
and smoked like my last
cigarette.
She was waiting for you
like an abandoned mine
and she lit your torch,
and she swallowed you whole.

I never really noticed
that it never did rain until
after that night,
you put down your lighter,
and pushed aside your beer-
but for her.
I never really noticed that
I wasn't in love.

I was waiting for you
like an empty casket,
but you didn't belong there,
your life wasn't finished-
our's was.
I never really noticed that, either.

Oh, I don't suppose I ever did cry
and mean it.
I don't suppose I ever wrote a poem,
lit it on fire,
and put it out with my tears
until I met you.
But you never really saw that.

You'd been filling her
since the day they told us
we couldn't see each other.
You'd used her 'as a pillow'
the night I chose to be with God.
You never did have my patience.

You were waiting for her
as you dropped your beer.
You quit drinking for the wrong person,
you see,
she enjoyed it, as I faded
in the reflection of her drink
in your eyes.

I never really noticed
that the time speeds up
when I'm not pulling you
from her quicksand.
I never really noticed
that I don't let anything go-
or I didn't, that is,
until I met you.
But you never really saw that,
did you?
 
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