23 April 2014

snapshot in words

Your lips used to mesmerize me,
and your gaze could hold me captive;
everything about you sent electricity through my veins.
I could look at you for hours and find new things to notice,
obscurities and idiosyncrasies to file away in my memory.
And, god,
with all that,
imagine the things I could write about you.
The curve of your smile.
The spark in your eyes.
Your warmth.
Your charm.
But they fade,
they dull,
they can never compete on paper
with what they are on you.
And especially now,
now that you're but the whisper of a memory
and your voice is a silent echo
and your face is a washed out reflection,
I could never capture your beauty
(the same way I could never capture your heart).

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