I've been replaying memories like songs, replayed it so many times it just wears me out
Who knew Summer could feel like a Van Gogh Starry Night?
Even though I can't remember the exact scape of your face, I expected to have forgotten your looks by now, but you've held tight to my mind the way I wish to hold tight to the lovely idea of y o u.
I guess I'll keep writing poetry about a person who never saw me the way I saw them because I'm too afraid to admit it, and I shake when I say it out loud...but truthfully, I'm only writing about a feeling I've never really felt.
Sincerely, THE AUTHOR
