Long Gone

There was a day I would have had her. Oh, I don't mean to brag. I was socially awkward then, too. I just didn't know. I'm not quoting from some old blues song here, my love was like a heat-seeking missile. When it hit me, whatever it is, nothing else ever mattered. I didn't eat, couldn't sleep. I spoke poetry. Not good poetry, but real poetry. Inspired poetry.

Now I write songs that will never be heard.

In human years, most things are behind me, good and bad. In butterfly time, I've just begun. Physical beauty is fleeting. Nobody seems more oblivious to that fact than the young, beautiful ones. Now I don't much care what anyone thinks of me as long as they don't think I'm unkind.