It’s been a few months now

and I don’t know why I am writing about you.

It feels like an obligation,

but what will this really do?

It’s been a few months now

and the memories become a blur.

The rose, the pictures, the bag of sugar,

the words you said, now a murmur.

It’s been a few months now

and you’ve become my inspiration.

I'm holding onto the feeling,

the pure, utter sensation.

It’s been five months,

five months and a few days.

I stopped keeping track,

it eventually became a haze.