maybe it was the way,
with such soft sincere-ness,
she alerted me to my own darkness
hidden behind a veil of plastic smiles;
it was her seemingly innate
ability to allure my heavy thoughts,
unworthy for anyone else,
out in to the open
to be discussed:
isn’t that what we all long for?
to cease to be something overlooked,
instead something carefully read over
like a book being scrupulously poured over;
like some magnanimous wave of interest being splashed over a petty soul –
this wealth of dainty knowledge, fear, & regret.
maybe, we were just flowers
the dying, setting sun
as we lost ourselves &
fell in love with the past
while souls kissed,
desperately clinging onto the good
that may not last.