she had a strong passion for art
she'd draw every saturday
she had a passion for writing    
she'd write poems, stories and songs
she had a passion for music
she recorded every song she wrote

but her greatest passion
was him
she'd draw him every Saturday
his eyes, his nose, his lips    
she'd write about him
every poem just for him
her songs she wrote
contained bits of him

no matter how strong her passions were
none of them were as strong
as the one she held for him

i love the way our fingers met
during cold rainy days

i love the way you smiled at me    
before you'd say goodbye          

i love the  way you'd be so happy
when you darkest days
brought you down

i love the way your brown eyes twinkle
under the shining bright moonlight

the way you'd touch me
down my ribs
and comfort me
when i cry    

i love the time we spent together
your kisses soft yet smooth

the way you'd talk to me
your voice
my calming thunder

i love the way our memories
will be always part of me

i love the way you forgot
our promises and dreams

but i especially love the way
these dont matter anymore

i'll always love the way
how these memories will die with me