I waited for you on the porch swinging my backyard at dusk, as if I would see your headlights come down the drive, you’d step out in a tux and ask me to go with you.

I sat at my window facing the street, I look for every car that looks like yours. But they are all the wrong color. The window is slightly cracked and in the breeze I can hear you call my name.

I will keep searching for her, the girl that you saw in me, because she sounds happy. Now, I guess this is the art of starting over.