There ain’t enough herb to smoke
or remorse and courage to swallow
to strike a nerve and reach out
to you. I’m lost and too high.
I’m caught in a light of confusion
and over head a heavy mist of
nostalgia falls and I begin to crave
your love like you’ll come back.
I want you so bad I live off
memories, of all our good days,
and times we loved, so beautifully; so
accepting, now, of what we each couldn’t see.
Even now, I’d give you everything.
I’d give you everything, regardless
of the circumstances. Regardless—
regardless and, even now, I’d love
you, even more passionately than before.
You can’t reject it. You just can’t.
I loved you so hard I made
room in my garden for your greens
and wanted no rent for love.
Someone always gets hurts
when there’s a heart involved.
No one wins when you aren’t honest
with yourself, even now.
Girl, there ain’t enough.
You can try and pretend and mask
the hurt with enough herb to
relax your ass to sleep.
But I can’t keep surviving on
memories, old warmth, and weed.
I need something more than old poetry.
Because you, beautifully, are enough, even now.