Replacing You - 1/30/07

I told her you were dead.
She said she already knew.
“How?” I asked.
“I just did,” she said.
She’s always been like that –
intuitive – I guess.
I don’t know what it means
when she looks at me
with those big black eyes,
her hair tied loosely back.
She looks at me like you did –
like you did –
the night you died.
In my mind –
I see her kiss me –
but she doesn’t.
She just said, “I know.”
And held my hand.
I’ll pretend she’s you –
tonight – but not forever.
Forever is only you.
She can’t replace forever.