beginings.

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.