I promised I’d return to you, perhaps tomorrow or the next. But the lessons wrapped inside of your beauty, your interactions and whispered inspirations came as timed images sent to me through Snapchat.
And this scribbled line in my notebook–meant to remind me of you, to save your place in my heart–cannot restore your splendor.
You beckoned me to capture you. To take a “screenshot” with the words that you sent dancing through my senses. But I promised to return to you, perhaps tomorrow or the next. Foolishly forgetting that tomorrow–with a story of its own–is a very jealous dance partner.