I believe my eyes knew
me so well yet
it's slipping past me now.
A laugh I once thought was
for a girl like me echoes down
an empty hallway.
A flashing image of the happy
days with the people I owe
so much to; far too close, near
our spot.
A flashing image that was gone
far too soon.
I ran out of people,
and moments,
and dates,
and conversations to blame.
Since then, I blamed
the day for taking over
the night
and shining light on everything
that should've stayed
hidden in the dark.
Now here I am, remembering
people and wishing we
had more time to learn every part
of each other.
A hundred poems written
on anything,
hands,
walls,
desks and the pavement where
we spent our late nights.
Three hours spent searching
and reading the poems
that paint every part of a happy
picture of people, now far away.
A lifetime spent
remembering
and regretting and reading a hundred
poems time & time again.
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