We dream in black and white
…But memories are in color.
I know it comes maybe once in a lifetime.
And it has passed, for both of us, into nostalgia, mingled (always, don’t deny it) with regret.
(I saw it, the thing that encompasses the whole essence of you, that one thing that marks us unto death, the memories relived with the copies of copies of copies of people and places that we wish could replace the void it left inside of us when we realize it has gone away, irretrievably, into the past.)
Now I know I have never been your’s.
And someone else is here.
