I truly love the little things.
Like watching her hands when she rips open a sugar packet and mixes it in her drink. How she fixes her hair when the wind messes it up. Her facial expressions when viewing herself in the mirror. Watching the way her hand holds a pen or pencil and how she writes or draws. Knowing the way she ties her shoes. Watching the way her face changes and moves when she reads. Seeing her nose wrinkle and eyebrows furrow when something disgusts her. Watching her smile grow and turn into a laugh when something amuses her.
Yea. The little things are my favorite.
Frail stitches.
I try to forget.
I’ve been stitching a mental quilt
And every patch is a part of you.
Your smile, stitched alongside your eyes, stitched alongside your hands.
I gather every memory, every thought, every patch,
together into the quilt of you.
When it’s finished, I plan to fold it neatly
and hide it deep into the depths of my mind.
I’m trying to forget.
It’s taking time, though, because you are the thread.
When I hear a song, it pulls.
And when I hear your name, it pulls even harder,
easily unraveling the progress I had made.
I try to forget.
But your pulls make it impossible.
(Source: showuslove)
