Never Not Once
She never once saw
The true blue of his
Eyes
She was far too busy
Crying
She never once heard
Him read his poems
Out loud
She was far too busy
Denying
She never once felt
His fingertips and lips
Between
Her shoulder blades
She was far too busy
Conspiring
She never once tasted
His true salt
Nor the soil of him
Vaguely
Reminiscent of both
Pine forest and sea
She was far too busy
Being angry and
Drowning in self pity
Now of course
She never can or will