I scratched the charcoal
-hued fragment on the paper,
tracing lines from reality to memory
and back to reality.
It was shaded like pastel wallpaper,
stuck like clay and split like timber.

The lines,
never made much sense.
Your lines,
never made much sense on the screen.
It was only much later that
I knew. when you looked at me that day,
at the park, before you even said too much.

Who knew.
I thought I did. As did you.

It was the lines of the skyscrapers,
Straightened into angles that converge
like illusions in our minds.

I scratched off the tops into clouds
Drifting them away in the wind.

Inspired by the movie 500 Days of Summer


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