The quiet morning, like the many spring beginnings before it, was calm, warm, comfortable.
But comfort I later found out could be deceiving, and warmth could just as easily give way to
the cold winter mornings.
It's spring, lazily, she gets up and sits in front of the mirror.
She finds what she sees.
But I think she's beautiful.
That's true, not many give her a second book, but I know I'm not the only one drawn to the smile of her lips.
She uses strawberry chastity, and glides at smoothing upon full part of lips.
There, that's better.
She's getting ready to see me.
I'm touched by the effort she's putting in.
Hey sleepyhead, wake up, I'm on my way to the coffee shop.
I'll see you soon.
If my lips were meant for anything,
it is safe for her kiss.
She was my first kiss, and I, hers.
That's gotta count for something.
It's this fatally romantic notion, for there can only be one, only one first kiss,
whose taste lingers on even after love doesn't.
I could kiss her all day, smiling, she'd let me.
The only thing better than the taste of her lips is the sound of the words that sweetly tumble out from them.
We would talk every day till minutes grew into hours, and I love you, until I love you.
She always had new stories to tell me, stories not told to just anybody.
I listened to her laugh, scream, cry, and be ridiculously rational.
And even then, I loved her.
As stranded in the eye of her storm, I was still.
Although now I realize that I should have been there, because her stories were never really finished.
And words, even the ones she thought with sweet reassurance, could only do so much.
This is how I see her, this is how I remember us.
I take photos so that in years ahead, I would have proof that she was actually there with me.
That there was once an us, trapped in a moment that will be visited and revisited by a forgiving memory.
I see slow-moving vignettes of her in my head, dancing, kissing, laughing.
But recently crying, I go over them again and again, trying to figure out what went wrong.
What did I do wrong?
Okay, I don't think I can see you this way. I'll just text you, okay?
I guess looking at pictures of her make it more painful than it has to be.
I want to get over her, and I want never to forget.
Anyone can look through the distance. I guess now I'm just another stranger, watching as you pass me by.
She must know what she does to me.
Her every touch, every time she holds my hand, every time she draws me near.
Suddenly, her hand felt cold.
I never thought that I could hold you in my arms, yet feel your miles away.
When she was warm to touch, I felt her heart beat, but it was no longer for me.
When I held your hand, I wanted to keep you forever. With this ring, I made a simple promise.
But was it not enough? Is it too late for us?
Hey, we need to talk.
That night, I finally understood.
That night, I finally understood.
That night, I finally understood.
That night, I finally understood.
I had no idea that it only took one second for everything to follow by.
One second to lose someone. One second, love lost.
I think you know where he's just gone. I may have seen him.
I think you know where he's just gone.
I think you know where he's just gone.
I think you know where he's just gone.
I think you know where he's just gone.
I think you know where he's just gone.
I think you know where he's just gone.
