You were country air and city lights.
You smelled of mountain tops
and morning dew
covered in coffee stained flannel.
You were sunsets and sunrises.
Always too quick to leave.
Always too eager to show up.
Still I held on tightly with my bare hands.
You were the earth and sky
You smelled of space
that always pulled me towards you.
But, you kept untying yourself
from my desperate lips.
You kept untying yourself
from my unwavering gaze.
Now as the wind picks up
and as yellow leaves fall
on my boots you used to love
I only see your shadow.
You used to linger on my bedroom walls but
I painted over your fingerprints with my words.
You lingered on my window pane too
but I turned the latch to keep the cold out.
I only see your footprints this year.
They are dusty and a little bruised
but I still see them like I have for the past three years.
I still see them after all this time.