The One That Got Away

Falling for her was like summer rain, First drizzle, then hurricane; With thunders, with lightning, heavy and fast, Meant to dishevel, but never to last. Being with her was an autumn fire, Vibrant and quiet, a bright red desire. For she was fresh coffee brewed in the morning, And you were vodka down her throat burning. She was Sundays sleeping in with your T-shirt on, She was nights spent late, talking ‘till dawn, But you were bare feet on cold ground, An old toy in a box of lost and found. Falling out of love with her Was made of details in a blur. A door slammed, a few regrets, Late nights buried in cigarettes, Voices breaking, ‘could have been’s, Driving off roads made of dreams. Her, a wild tale without age, You, who loved her page by page.