i noticed the trees in your neighborhood

have dead dagger finger branches.

i see them everytime

i drive by your house.

the steel grey sky paints above you

like a menacing reminder and

i can feel the chill in your bones

everytime you write.

it's love

and i don't know a thing about it.

i don't know why the weather is bouncing inbetween us

like a message

i don't know why the nights

seem so long and lonely.

i don't know what love is

or if it really exsists,

in a cigarette

or a cup of cofee

or a song of jazz broken up between conversations

about you.

all i know is that you sit in other peoples cars

touch other people's hands

and never see me anymore.