i told myself i would not stain these pages with words about somebody else again
leafing through old writing reminds me of the countless people that have provoked feelings,
that make my mind string together words that become stanzas as long as the time i spent thinking about their being,
pages i wish i would find in journals of others, printed with letters dedicated to my name,
a way to bandage cracks that have insecurities leaking through,
an oasis of words to caress my soul in the middle of this desert,
and i continue to write about those who will be temporary,
those who will never feel the same,
those who will never fall as hard,
those who i look at through the rose colored glass,
those whose faces i seek in a crowded room,
those whose eyes meet mine and my heart meets its peak,
those who i will never get the courage to tell how i feel,
those who will become another chapter to read,
those whose beauty will live on between the ink and the lines, between crossing my t's and dotting my i's,
forever captivated in a wave of infatuation, kissing the shoreline of their essence.