I hope to never grow old.
Of course not in a literal sense,
That's inclusive in the natural progression of time.
No, I mean in every other sense.
Passion.
That's what I fear to lose.
I fear to forget.
I struggle, conceptually, with its disengagement.
How can such an emotion wither?
The nights when I lay by your side,
Only to glance into the limitless bounds of your eyes.
That smile, oh that smile.
To not witness that smile would be a tragedy.
The feeling that I provoke that smile,
Engulfs me in affection,
And I fall more in love with you than any can believe to be possible.
Too see the sunrise,
And stand motionless, awestruck.
Its vibrant colors,
Grazing the memories of childhood wonder.
Reliving moments,
Once believed to be lost.
Holding on to a moment mercilessly,
Attempting to extend it to many,
To never wander from it.
To pursue limitless enjoyment,
Never forcing a smile because you don't have to.
To laugh at everything,
With everyone.
The recognition of simple pleasures,
All compiled in a scrapbook of memories.
One to be created at a later time,
Because you're consumed in remembering now.
But eventually,
You'll lose the memories you wish to document.
Because the sand of time slipped through your unforgiving hands,
And you forgot
The once vibrant skies,
Will fade to dull variations of the same tone.
As nature must be re-painted from time to time,
Which you forgot.
The laughs,
They'll fade to echos of your own,
With no one left to reciprocate such an intense expression of joy,
Because you forgot.
Unforgiving forget will consume that which you should've never forgotten.
Because as time grows old,
The body does too.
And as the past begins to wither,
The brain disengages.
As time progresses,
Passion does not have to be lost.
You do not have to forget.
The things forgotten are what you wish to forget.