untitled

I've walked down streets, lifting hats and pushing hair out of strangers faces.
Looking at eyes-
looking for you.

I don't remember much but I know you have soft, blue eyes.
It's all I have to go on.

I rip through
pages of
pretty
people and
pray that you'll be one of them.

You never are.

It's a
seemingly
simple
search that never ends the way I want it to.

I could make it easier and fly 15 states from here and now.
I could always just go door to door.
I don't.
I wouldn't want to come off as desperate-

but I am.

I remember now.
You never
filed your
fingernails, you
bit them to the
bone.

All the better for the touch I suppose.

And you'd touch me so soft with
helplessly,
hesitant
hands and I'd hold my
heated breath and smile.

Strange,
something
so
special can be
so fleeting.

I know that one day, when I stop all this,
you'll find me.
And I'll
find you-

familiar.