I wonder why, when she came back,
She let her conversations die in sheets of shower water.
She had her first loves and
The way he used to hold her on night walks,
Two-week romances on stone benches and that
Arms-around-each-other aimless stroll.
And I wonder why, when she came back,
She never spoke about it,
Never fell grace-stricken into her rhythms,
Never ran back those two thousand miles,
But let her emotions evaporate through her skin.