You were fleeting,
like a perfect photo passing you by
on a long car ride,
the one you won’t forget about,
at least for the next few miles.

But I guess that’s what happens when you’re in transit,
you meet people and you let them pass you by,
because it’s not the right time.

They’re so beautiful-
maybe for just that moment,
and maybe even more beautiful than the ones who stayed,
because you know they’ll be gone soon.

Like soft serve sliding down your hand
in the heat of an afternoon,
there was a sense of urgency
to your sweetness
that only I could taste.