Troubled girl, you keep me getting back to you,

The puff of your cologne,

It fills my lungs.

It smells of your lost love.

Your smell it feels my nose, your smell that is melancholy to your tears.

Tears which on my shoulders took refuge,

That smell keeps me getting back to you girl…

The summer wind – it mocks at me quietly,

It reminds me of tossing up and down of your coloured hair streaks.

This wind whispers in my ears,

Of troubles you shared.

The ones I borrowed and heard your story,

Your troubles and your past,

Your hope and your teen age dreams,

The wind keeps me getting back to you girl…

The couples that I know and ones that I see,

And those stupid mundane fights that they keep getting in.

Are reminiscent of your aqua brown eyes,

The ones I drowned in when I held your hand and let you in,

Along with you, I let your baggage sweep in.

I spoke to you while you gazed at the lake,

I envied the orange sun & even the tranquil air that you breathed in.

They keep me getting back to you girl…

I kissed dried tears on your chin and listen to you talk about him,

Of how you set him free for something else that he had been chasing.

I heard it all and watched you laugh as I pinched you gently.

I became a story-teller and with closed eyes you heard them,

With your head resting on me.

Those stories keep me getting back to you girl…

But now I do see you dream,

In a new photo you shared with your round face wearing a grin.

Same aqua brown eyes,

But different arms now hold you in.

If it rejuvenates your teen age dreams,

Then maybe worth it is.

My hands search for you troubled girl,

You, who now have become a story for me.

Oh troubled girl, you keep me getting back to you,

You left, you did.

But honey, you left your troubles with me.