I think of you often
i hardly remember you, so i suppose i’m not really thinking of you

maybe it’s more like i’m thinking of the idea of you
you’re a foggy landscape in the back of my consciousness

your name is a taste that comes only in the fleeting space between dreams
my mind has lost the ability to pronounce its syllables

looking back on “us” is sort of like looking at something right under your nose with the wrong end of a telescope
the image is distorted and far too magnified to see
any semblance of a bigger picture

to this day i still wonder what exactly it could have been
what we could have been
had we changed our views