Once, I fell for a traveler
whose eyes sought the beautiful.
But even those who were simply mundane
didn't even have to worry a thing,
for he always saw the best within.

Never have I ever been a destination.
More like ruins that give the illusion
that abandon could exhibit beauty.
But his map was never way too full
for more pushpins on places he'd rule
with polaroid films and blank canvasses,
that only his eyes and hands can caress.

But little did I know that he was
more on an adventure than just a petty tour.
That when time came for him to move on,
I'm sure I forgot, here wasn't his home.

At least, in the roster, I exist.
One of the places he chose to visit.