Your eyes are time capsules in my mind. The memory of you there, fingers lingering through my hair. Begging me to lock my lips with yours. I posed from a distance, sipping on my infidelity. How it made its way lasciviously across your body so meticulously, intentionally imploring you to want me. You asked, but I didn't know what to say so I just kissed you. I still see you sometimes in the peripherals of my mind, though the contours of your face are beginning to blur as they do with any beautiful stranger. I can't tell whether the image of us is a painting or a picture: something I've carefully constructed or a moment merely manifested. But I do know that it was the blue in your eyes and the white in my lie that had me stay til dawn.