People are like stories.
Different kinds, different durations,
Different endings.

I think of some and smile,
I wish for some never ended,
I try to distant myself from some,
And try to keep some so close,
That it blurs my vision.

Some feel so real, some feel like a blown bubble by the sun at night,
Some held my hand and made me feel alive,
Others made me realize the parts of me that had long been dead.

I want to place the memory of some in my wallet,
And I regret reading some.