I will remember the events that hold meaning to you, so that your face does not become shrowded and blurred. It is not your actual face that will remain in my memory, but your spirit allegro. When you go to the sea, when you finish writing a novel, when you perform for the people, I will remember to ask just how it went. And somehow in this mesh of living, we will connect for that moment and you will forget that you ever revealed to me that things would happen. And we touch.
Your face will remain clear and crisp, the jaw line defined as by fierce pencil strokes across the page. A oval mask on paper, that holds your eyes - pools of blue. I will not let your contours become blurry as when I've not my glasses. Somehow you do look more beautiful that way, yet I still appreciate the strength of your faults. Knowing that you too have scars to show and not to cover up, I feel like I can know you better.