If I lose Terri, and I might, I feel

Her drifting toward sunnier shores,

I will find another to love, I always have,

But I will never find another Terri.

Terri and I are not a good fit, except in bed.

She is sunny, I am cloudy. She is

The anode, I am the cathode. She is 

The cherry on top, I am the drips

Running down the side, fun to lick,

But kind of messy, metaphorically.

It will be strange to sleep alone,

To go without, to do without, 

To forge my way through the thick

Undergrowth of life sans companion.

I feel the ache already, and there

She is across the room, reading

And occasionally looking up to smile.

I have to wonder if I am putting

The cart before the horse.

But I know nothing of carts and horses.

I know this, when I'm with Terri,

And when I'm not with Terri, I think

About my quiet, North Country Girl,

And I know Terri thinks about others,

Other anodes. These are not the signs

Of a long-term relationship, but she is

The best cherry, the best of all cherries.

~

But when we kiss the way we do,

I want nothing else, and no one else.