We met in a new wave,
The technical maze of Myspace.
Her voice of reason, the grace I needed.
Hearts beating, still young but already bleeding.

We would meet in phases through phone lines.
She was not mine but offered her time.
Our first kiss leaves a phantom Imprint upon my lips.
Memories locked inside cd cases that I forget.
Very few places to find her,
Since she’s been sainted.
She rests inside the spirit of this painting.
A shrine was built in my mind after she departed.
I do my best to hold onto how it all started.

The first love I will always have, but could not save.
I remember her well, few faded memories of her face.

We dated some months and got to know,
The ins and outs of each others souls.
We would...