time flies ever so subtly as my fingers scan through the pages of every poem i've written about you. the first one took me back to the year '16, when i started to adore your subtle gestures and how i'd scan the vast crowd just to catch a glimpse of you walking past busy streets and the bustling noise.
pictures capture moments in time. they fade, too. but i could probably reread poetry after several years and still, ever so vividly, recall the soft graze of your hand touch mine as you sit next to me in the blurry haze of pop music and liquor. unlike pictures, as long as someone rereads these words over and over, they'll last a lifetime.
i have probably used a thousand words and a hundred sentences to describe you, still, they've only amounted to mere understatements.
although the time i spent with you was fleeting, the pieces i write about you will last a lifetime. i will now flip the page of this very last entry.
someday, somehow, in the distant future of this absurd world we both live in, i will gather the courage to write about somebody else,
but until then,
i'll stop writing about you.
July, 2020 Painting by unknown
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