could paint pictures with words. A million segments and cliches, beautiful for the first time on every first time.
There's something slipping through. An art I wish to ignite and burn till the embers no longer warm a soul.
I want to capture breaths of relief and turn them into midnight memories.
a make-shift souvenir I'd wrap around your wrist and smile.
Something you'll trip across years away, something that'll stop you dead and fill you with life.
And you'll miss when it mattered
And you'll feel it so gone
That ache, so unique and twined hurriedly and completely
wrapped around every second that fades like colors in the sun
the light reclaiming everything it brings
And she'll be dead and gone even as she lives
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