Words, so ever fleeting.
As I lie here, romanticizing memories of all bonds ever formed between myself and another person,
I realize I rarely look anyone directly in the eyes.
Perhaps those moments when I allow myself to do so
make real the emotions that've been evoked.
Words, so ever fleeting,
only moments ago I had the perfect combination of them
to describe the exact same thing I once saw
in every past lover's eyes
that exact same thing
that broke me to pieces.
Now, tonight, in the dim light of 1 am
is a montage of every spark of emotion
that I've ever evoked in a person,
first of love,
second of sorrow.
Now I wonder if I'll ever look another person in the eyes,
or if this realization has concluded said montage for good.
Who am I to seek such refuge in another person
when I can't find such solace in myself?