sometimes, i stare at the pouring sun
—at the colors that flood and occupy
a single stretch of sky all at once.
how can something so grand
stretch between the small space
how can something so big take up
sometimes i stare at your eyes
and wonder if someday, this moment
will be reduced into a photograph;
into a two-second span of a clip
in a film that runs for a hundred hours;
into a short, heart-rending epitaph
dedicated to a person gone from my life.
sometimes, this all seems to be
like if i let go of you even just a little,
i’ll lose all of you for good.
becomes so strikingly beautiful
that it makes wonder if i’m
in the warm core of a comet
that is destined to fall through.
it’s because you look like
liquid sunsets and i’m afraid that
you might slip away, too.
good things never really last, they say.
sometimes when i laugh and pause,
it’s because i suddenly get scared
that i might be experiencing my best days.
sometimes, i become hyperaware
that we’re actively making memories;
sometimes, i stop and stare
when history blends with reality,
— Romia Creshil, "it's okay if all sunsets do not last for a day, as long as it's you who stays"