and though i have kissed your lips even before i held your hands, nothing will ever be different. everything--intact and remembered-- you and me, a world unto ourselves.
(letters to her, part I)
i can neither sing the melody of forgetting nor hum in the silence of bygones. because you linger. persistently. and i, as i always do, remember you up to every single piece.
(letters to him, a ricochet, part I)
