Sometimes

I think about being in your arms sometimes
with my head turned, cheek against your chest.
You were the only one
who held me the way I liked,
close in warmth,
long moments with your hands
caressing my spine.
You're still the only one.

But I only think of you sometimes.

You know you lost my trust
just as you knew I rarely give that prize.
But you still had a chance
to regain some friendship, if nothing else.
Maybe you'd have spoken
if you'd realized it was your last.
But you let it pass by
without a word.

And so
I only think of you sometimes.