I remember watching you during movies.
As the scenes changed, the lighting acted as different filters on your face.
Each one more interesting than that before.
You were what I called beautiful.
A sunflower among roses.
No, the tallest sunflower among sunflowers.
An aesthetic sort of beauty.
Jean jacket over a yellow tee shirt kind of beauty.
But also red dress and red lips with high boots and dark eyeshadow kind of beauty.
The kind of girl you’d notice in a nice car before you notice the car.
I remember watching you pick stuff out in stores and wanting to pick you up and kiss you.
I remember wanting to fall on my knees and tell you I love you in front of everyone.
I remember every single light that shined on your face during those movies.
I remember looking at you in art galleries, trying to understand you as you tried to understand the art.
I remember looking at you and wishing you’d look at me.
But I guess we were surrounded by interesting things.
To each their own.