When her life flashed before her eyes,
She thought about their first kiss.
When his came back into view,
He thought about her touch.
He kissed her like he meant something.
The same way she touched him:
Soft, and gentle,
But passion by the ton.
When she told him of her trouble,
He did everything he could
To put the pieces back together.
But she had a collection of puzzles,
And that hobby was hers all along.
When he told her he was broken,
She asked half the questions she had.
But she was never satisfied
With his half answers,
And anyway he never liked banter.
When she told him:
She loved him, the first time,
His heart stopped in its tracks,
And it took him ages to recover.
When he told her:
He was in love with her,
She closed the door halfway,
And stayed in the hall
To sneak midnight peaks
At his heartbeat.
When they slept,
They dreamt of each other,
And drew pictures of the future,
All in black and white,
And always with watercolor.
But this was all back
When they were in love.
This was during the greatest times.
The days that took forever to begin.
The nights that took days to end.