You are her perfect definition of almost.
The lost piece of puzzle,
the half-done painting;
the imperfect photo.
You are her unfinished sonata,
the music she can never sing
and the song that can never be played.
You are her unread pages and torn sheets.
You are her unfinished poem-
her untold thoughts;
the scribbled words in her paper.
You are the unrevealed story-
the almost lover.


*-Steph Dionisio,  November 14, 2017