I Guess

I said, I'd changed,
and now,
I'm not
  so sure, because there I went
with
                             too many words,
                             too much thought.
I could blame it on too many years
    of silence,
but you'd suspect the
                          truth,
and I suppose my declaration came, anyway,
                                   as no wonder.  So,
                                                    I could have kept it
                                                    in,
held back all
sentiment,
feigned less regard,
but seasons
       more could
                come and go, time continue pass,
                                                             and still my mind
would chant,
                   the same old, age old
fact
of
love.
And
if I
could,
I wouldn't
                         talk to you this way,
title you every turn.
                              I'd
speak grander of the air, work out
                                          passion flowering
                                                 as it does at
                                                       times.
        I'd
stop nursing the taste
   of the last conversation.
                                  I'd let it be
                                              but I guess I haven't changed.