If I were to write a book about you, I would need to start from today and work my way back to the day we first met. My perception of time crumbled from that moment on.
If I were to write a song about you, I would need to find an orchestra so that you could feel every nuance, engage with every note. Each sound a measure of the time and the space and the movement that still pulses through our lives.
If I were to write a poem about you, I would need to find the words to describe everything about you – and nothing in particular. Words are just shells that chaperon our emotions.
If I were to write a letter to you, I would likely never send it. Not if you stayed here with me. Not if we both didn’t know any better.
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