My Past Life
(c)by Leslie Samford 1997
I do not miss the cold cold nights of loneliness,
or the hot sun beating on my bare back.
I do not miss the conversations with myself never shared,
or the ones with friends left behind.
I do not miss stretching on that single bed,
or curling with only myself.
I do not miss touching the air beside me,
and knowing nothing was there.
I do not miss the unfulfilled feathered fantasies,
dreamed of every night.
I do not miss my innocence of love,
before you came into my life.