I can't help it. I can only see you shrouded in mist that glitters. It trails all the way across the marble and all over in my eyes.
I'll go blind
I wish I could capture you in a snap of my lashes, but I can hardly manage to draw when it's already late and past last glances, when the memories from a future story have shined brighter, more luminous than the fireflies on a string you always have as a shawl.
You're beautiful tonight, even more than last night. You're floating with stars, but that's usual around this time of day. It's forever evening when I trace your figure on my terribly forgetful pages.
My head is just plain graphite, slow from lead. It could never truly make a live copy.
So while I can I need to smile at only you even if I cannot look
Or I'll cry
Because this shower isn't of meteorites. You don't hover near me. You aren't the one I'll have in my crafted memories. They're too sketchy to make you mine, yet too close to me to be let go. I can't.
Or I'll be left with just shoddy paper and pencil.
Without even a wisp of your hair, a gaze from your way, a twinkle on your teeth, an angle here, a shape there, a hitch in your voice, a valley in your collar, anything else my lead cannot grasp.
Without a wisp of what I see.
