a silhouette against the sun,
all shadow, a young man,
my first memory of that year.
a girl with porcelain skin,
the darkest angel, my savior,
come to find me in this place.
he leans over a desk, a smile
playing on his lips, lighting up
his coffee-colored eyes.
she grasps my hand and traces
every line and contour, singing
a soft song i can't remember.
his skin is warm, our hands brush
while we read the words written
by people we'll never know.
she always told me things would
change, but then, i had music,
and his face, and need for nothing else.