Affection, was it?
She asked me once how much I had for her.
But I never answered.
For I couldn’t be sure.
And even then,
She’ll stand by.
Though I did nothing,
Though I reply none in kind.
She chose to turn against the world,
Fought against time;
To be with me – a writer unrefined,
When she belongs in light and I, a shadow in grey lines.
A memory, was it?
Only when she was forever lost,
Did realization dawned;
I love her – more than the world could cost.
Our time from memory,
Only in fiction I could admit;
What her existence meant to me –
Salvation, was it.