Not Often

I don’t think about you often,

But, I do think about your smile,

When you first saw me,

Warm and vulnerable,

On that cold morning.

I think about your food choices,

A certain guilty pleasure,

Which you hadn’t admitted to anyone.

I think about your words,

And a few thoughts that you told me,

Unknowingly that you’re thinking out loud.

I think about your presence,

That made everything feel alive,

Even in the silences,

Of unknown city corners.

I don’t think about you often.

But, I do think about everything we did.

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