48 hours ago
you were a question.
Now you're a definite statement—
a mantra, even, or a catchphrase.
48 hours ago
you were a "hey, what's up?"
Now you're a quick, necessary hello
and an unsaid
"I missed talking to you."
48 hours ago
you were what people told me you were.
Now you're everything
I know you to be.
(But even more so,
now you're everything
I want to learn about you.)
48 hours ago
you were a face.
Now you're a smile
that could melt Antarctica
and eyes that have looked at me
with feelings I was starting to think
nobody would ever have for me.
48 hours ago
you were somebody I kind-of knew.
Now you're the person
that makes it easier to breathe,
yet at the same time
can take my breath away.