Where are you now? Where is your mind, where is your heart? How can I possibly have a glimpse at what is going on within your thoughts? How could I appease your inner, sudden explosions? But then, why would I even have any say? Why would I even feel entitled to help? If our time has been so little. If our time has practically been no time at all. How dare I? Why should I?
And then, when I am more calm and feel like I can think better, I come to the conclusion that even our very little time, as timely lame as it may be, has been outwittingly meaningful. As truthful a love as the most. As essential and beautiful.
But then, even with this calm made out of sensible thinking, I am still not able to see you. And I turn into the embodiment of despair. Because I realize that, the more I need to see you, the more I forget your face. Why does this even happen? How does it even come to occur? It must be a stupid mind trick, one of those things that happens when you think you need something. Like when you constantly think "I need money", and your life turns into that. So you become poor.
I turn to my social networks and look for your photographs, I find them, but I have no peace. I think you, I pray you, I write to you, just like this, but your face is not the one that I want to bring into my mind right now. Because the face that I am forgetting is the one that is right in front of me when we are as close as book pages, the one I caress disguised in fixing your hair, the one I can kiss so tenderly. So close. The face that I can talk to with voices of the soul, so cheesy, yet so honest and true. The face that I am so in love with because of the inner light within your eyes. The light that so many can see when we shine together, but that only I can actually touch. Your light, your face, your eyes, your cheeks, the corners of your mouth as you smile, your chin, your hair, your life, your soul, your heart portrayed in the transparency of your expressions.
How? Oh, how, dear God! How could that ever disappear from my head?