it's so hard to forget
the curve of your mouth
the words that you spoke
the way they gently passed through your lips
it's harder than remembering
the words i wrote down
scribbling furiously
trying to make sense
of a world
that never stops talking
the roar is nothing short of deafening,
yet i can still pick out
your voice
as i copy down the words
i wish you had said
instead of the ones you did
after all,
that's what writing is for
recording dreams
alternate versions of
reality
reflecting something prettier
than the naked eye could see
the words i wanted
would have sounded much prettier
on those lips of yours
but i look up from my dreamy scribbles
and remember
i am still awake