I Speak Of You Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

I remember the moon,
it's light underestimating you,
the wild borders of your face,
the silent color of your eyes,
your disciplined lips,
and their march towards me,

I remember the rain
pushing you into my heart,
because the rain back then,
was never meant to be
a form of torture
to keep you away,
the rain understood more,
and fell without worrying
you would not apprise
it's sacrifice.

But I did not. I saw fear,
not being able to regret
falling in love with you,
and for a while
I left my dreams and forgot you,
sometimes running, sometimes sprinting,

But I got tired alone,
and now I speak of myths,
your mouth and your lips,
chasing away the courage
I was gathering.

I speak of myths,
for I want to first fit you in,
in my heart, in the page
running through the middle of
the streets, being not you,
but a form you never were,
unlike the storm I was avoiding.