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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.
