And when she was gone, people would ask me,
"Do you remember what she was like?".
I would have liked to say that I did,
I remembered every crevice, every expression.
Every sigh, every laugh, I remember every chuckle, Every lyric that fell from her lips. But I'd just say.
"She was art, she was poetry",
So it was, that they knew, that I did love her so.


© MyrninAsterSnow