Nantucket Blues
Posted: 13 Apr 2025, 19:34
You left for Nantucket for eight days. Was it eight? It seemed like forever.
I met you the night before you left. I like to think I tried to act hard. But see, you have all of my firsts.
This was the first time I was sad that I wouldn't get to see someone every day.
I used to think you didn't bring out my soft side. You did though. You do.
Around my neck, you lied your strongest rosary, and baby I started to cry.
Pictures sent back and forth, I thought you thought of me all day. That maybe you thought of me in the smallest, most detailed way.
But maybe not.
Maybe you felt free there. Maybe you felt it wasn't worth it. Maybe you didn't feel anything at all.
Only the sun and the stars and the tree filled path that leads to the sand will know.
I can never know how you really feel. How you really felt.
Did you think of me, though? Standing next to you.
Did you imagine the next summer and all the places you would have taken me?
I've never been on an island before.
I never sought after the idea of white hats, white gloves, white Mary Jane shoes. Pulling up in their sixties classic cars that to be fixed have to be sent to a friend of a family friend.
But no, you're not that way.
You rotate the same six white tees, two black pairs of three inch swim shorts, and a pair of Toms.
I grew up known as white trash.
But this isn't about me.
This is about you. About what I didn't think I'd ever lose.
About how I've never been to Nantucket, but when you left, it gave me the blues.
I met you the night before you left. I like to think I tried to act hard. But see, you have all of my firsts.
This was the first time I was sad that I wouldn't get to see someone every day.
I used to think you didn't bring out my soft side. You did though. You do.
Around my neck, you lied your strongest rosary, and baby I started to cry.
Pictures sent back and forth, I thought you thought of me all day. That maybe you thought of me in the smallest, most detailed way.
But maybe not.
Maybe you felt free there. Maybe you felt it wasn't worth it. Maybe you didn't feel anything at all.
Only the sun and the stars and the tree filled path that leads to the sand will know.
I can never know how you really feel. How you really felt.
Did you think of me, though? Standing next to you.
Did you imagine the next summer and all the places you would have taken me?
I've never been on an island before.
I never sought after the idea of white hats, white gloves, white Mary Jane shoes. Pulling up in their sixties classic cars that to be fixed have to be sent to a friend of a family friend.
But no, you're not that way.
You rotate the same six white tees, two black pairs of three inch swim shorts, and a pair of Toms.
I grew up known as white trash.
But this isn't about me.
This is about you. About what I didn't think I'd ever lose.
About how I've never been to Nantucket, but when you left, it gave me the blues.