Our time has passed,
my name collects dust somewhere in your mind.
For me,
our times become moths that flutter,
to anything that reminds me of us,
streets, songs, and the smile I wear across my face—
you still are everything to me.
The only closeness I find,
is knowing we sleep under the same stars,
but the moon
seems to change his face every day.
I could hardly remember who he was yesterday,
he is still beautiful. He is still real cool.
Is he not you?
Distant some days,
but always there like my shadow,
reminding me I can never forget,
telling me different ideas night after night
like…
Could we ever make both love and sense?
Could you kiss reassurance back into my skin?
So deep it would drown all of my doubts,
forever and then again.
Could I ever love myself the way I still love you?
Could you ever really tell me the truth?
But like the moon,
I never know who you will be,
which face is yours,
and what are the ones you just want us to see.
I want to know,
do any of them ever think of me?
Malia Hunt is a student at Central Connecticut State University
Header Photo Credit: Mark Tegtehoff
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.