SHE DOES NOT HAVE BEGINNER'S LUCK

On the outside, it's like a night
Where the bugs hit so hard.
Inside, it feels like an empty can of memories.
Smiles and laughter that sting her eyes.
Like wind in her face
On the swingset as a child--
Your fate breathed through her
And sealed you in her heart.
At one time there was substance
Filling out the hollow places
Where your wicked, twisted game
Of "I love you." erased.
Words that can mean your whole being--
That depend on the very existence
Of your smile...
They can also fade faster than said.

She'll never be so quick
To be amused, again.