An image of your beauty
comes alive when my eyes close.
The scent of your perfume,
which imprinted itself,
lingers when a picture of you surfaces.
The sound of your voice
remains lodged in my brain,
refusing to loosen.
My mind calculates
how not to forget
the beauty that found its place
in my beating heart.
Along with it, a prayer
that Time's sticky fingers
never covet the memory of you.

