but there was once you, in the hallway by the foyer;
your head, glistening with new dew, fresh and colored by the lights of dawning day.
and you'd always just walk right in, uninvited, knowing you were welcome.
you'd sit on the couch with my dad's old acoustic,
and my fingers would skim ivory keys;
we'd play a different song, same time, same speed and our chaos would echo melodiously throughout.
now my couch remains unoccupied, the guitar, neglected.
the strings unpressed, unplayed.

but there was once you, with fridays in your eyes,
dressed completely to the nines in a new suit, (your smile undulated in chords)
and you'd take my arm and my dress, grab a blanket, a basket.
you'd parade me around town, speaking in faux english accents, skipping/running/racing down broken streets.
we'd scream our favorite songs at the very tops of our lungs making sure they'd richochet off of every window.
i don't wear that dress anymore,
and that blanket you used to sleep in lay folded by my door.

but i swear, i swear, i swear,
there was once you,
with untraveled roads still inside your shoes.
there WAS once you,
holding me, hugging me at four in the morning,
swearing andpromisingeach word you spoke were true.
you lied through your teeth, yet i loved that smile.
i could have sworn...that you were once you.