Why do I still remember
The night I became your mirror?
Portraying you in all your imperfections,
You were so quick to cover up.
Yet through my eyes you were perfect;
Perfect in all your imperfections, as the cliché goes.
Of what use is a human eye
If it cannot look through the heart?
“Beautiful people”, she whispered.
“I’m not”, I said.
“I look into your eyes and I see it”
“So do I”. She smiled.
How do these fragments, the smallest of encounters,
How do they come to mean so much?
Your eyes, the colour and the shape.
Your cheekbones, chin, and neck.
Your hair, as soft as your lips.
And they were so. very. soft.
I still taste you;
You taste like nothing.