You don't always know <br />how you know. <br />It comes slowly, the awareness. <br />With the certainty and final resignation <br />of a child learning there's no Santa Claus, <br />you just know. <br /> <br />The breakfast table, once a venue <br />for long dreamy stares <br />and coffee-flavored kisses, <br />becomes a silent stage <br />for reading the news, <br />eating breakfast, and <br />you just know. <br /> <br />The smell of his shirt <br />when you'd bury your face there, <br />the feel of his hands on your body <br />as if they had a life of their own <br />all silently slip to a place <br />wherever memories go <br />to gather dust, and <br />you just know. <br /> <br />You miss the nights, <br />how his body and yours <br />breathed and moved as one. <br />... maybe it's those nights <br />and how they were <br />that give the knowing life, and <br />you just know. <br /> <br />Like ocean waves upon the sand, <br />love recedes <br />with all the other yesterdays <br />and you would trade <br />all your tomorrows <br />to have it back, but <br />you just know.<br /><br />C.J. Heck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-it-s-over-you-just-know/
