Fragments;

Once you told me that memories remind you of snowflakes;
how each is different, delicate,
how each fall ceaselessly;
provoking emotions that we're still too young to control.
I still believe we harbor those emotions,
like the waves that choke us while we believe we're floating,
like the sand on the beaches we loved without knowing
that somewhere out there, beneath a flaming sky,
there was a love lost, a soul broken, a fragmented mind.

I never knew where I was supposed to go.
I never knew who I was supposed to be,
but you gave to me your mind, to which I fell undeniably in love with.
Your starlit soul is where I made my home,
for a lifetime different from my last.

We all need something, a creation, a spur, a muse,
for me that's you.
When you're supposed to write about the mind but you ended up on them,
that's love.
That's wind-whipped hair in an open ocean.
Before you, I wrote without substance. After you, I saw what I was missing.
Passion. Light. Love, an emotion I could write just enough about.
Just enough to keep me sane.

I figured that once, you did that too. To keep you sane, just like I am now.
Such a ruthless cycle we abide by;
it reminds me of how leaves fall, forced by the wind so violently,
so gently,
beautifully.
You remind me of autumn, of how my minds colors change when I think of you.
They're no longer a faded gray-scale, but vibrant and worth writing about.
After all, these words are simply fragments of my imagination;
waiting patiently to tumble effortlessly to the ground and slip miridically into the past.