| Nostalgia in 3 11/21/01 SM Fishman Its just like when that songs comes on the radio and nostalgic smile overcomes you as you descend back to that moment in time when you didn’t just hear that song – you lived it. It’s just like when you flip through pages of your photo album and you remember ever so fondly those times, those pages of your life. It’s just like when you come across an old friend and reminisce about “the good old days” laughing as it were yesterday – wishing it was. |
| Faded kisses 12/01/01 SM Fishman When I kissed your neck and inhaled your taste, you knew you were going to leave something with me. The fragrance of you still lingers on my hands, the collar of my shirt and in my mind. |
| A kissed impression 12/4/02 SM Fishman And all I could think about Intoxicating was that kiss, that moment Intoxication. So lost in your mouth sparkling in your eyes, your gaze. And all I could think about the next day – the recovery, was that session with you. |
| 4 hour relationship in Vegas 4/5/03 SM Fishman Though I’ll never hear from you again, or if I do, your words will be plain, distant, I’ll never forget you there, waiting, wondering. The laser light gleaning off your pierced perfect nose and your deep brown eyes. The gaze you gave me danced into my memory looking up, intense. For those few hours of pulsating bars, sweaty crowds and liquefying kisses you were truly consumed in my head, endless as your Montana prairies. |
| Your breath is gone 7/1/04 SM Fishman I’ll always remember you For who you are, were. Deep. Passionate. Esoteric. Soft. And I may always wonder why our paths ran parallel instead of as one. Your lipstick imprints on a letter, black satin sheets, ambient music on a tape, soft and sensual words unspoken and left to our fates setting sail to different oceans. |
| She loved me with a letter 7/1/04 SM Fishman You were the only one who loved me, with a subtle passion, a Neruda sonnet. And your love was incarcerated, trapped in a letter and not released, hidden. Buried in ink. Left for me to touch, tear, and read to myself wondering how it would have sounded from your lips. |