The sun moves and I catch a glimpse of her face
I move around the glare and it is just a girl in the year below
A ponytail moves in the corner of my eye and it’s her
But I turn to look and the girl looks nothing like her
Her face is sprawled across posters and yet
The models look nothing like her
I hear her laugh but can never pinpoint the source because
She’s not here
And she never is.
I see her face in strangers’ bodies
And I know the memory of her will destroy me
Eventually. But not today.
The memory haunts me
But it is somehow worse when I see her
In other people
The split second of hope that she
Is somehow here and whole
Destroys me more than the main event ever did.
I remember what she looks like
In technicolour clarity
The way she would always wear her hair
Because it was easy
The shape of her eyebrows
The run of her jawline
And the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
But these memories do me no good
And they just provide fuel for me
To see her in the places she is not.
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