Seized with a sudden desperation to hold this moment as close as I could,
to freeze it in time,
to protect it from the slow crawl of inevitability,
I closed my eyes.
      I barely allowed myself to breathe,
Scared to let the effervescent moment pop.
I wanted to cling to it, protect it, cherish it,
like a child cherishes a bubble,
for a moment so enraptured by its existence that they forget that it isn’t meant to last.
      But it’s over now,
and my eyes are open.

The pain isn’t poetic,
Which is why,
All my poetry
Has turned into sad statements
Instead of swirling art

Not even death could be sweeter
Than the taste of you.