Ephemeral

You; the girl in the pigtails, the one with the masks, the hidden knife; we are fading into nothingness, like the prettiest of sunsets- fading into the next, the next one, the one after, until there’s nothing left of us.

Cynosure

A moment of both celebration and mourning, of the dreams you have lived and those futures not realized; of the masks of the past and the veil of the future; of the passing of yesterday, and the inevitability of tomorrow.

I was here.

If my name is on the page, if my name is scrawled on some distant pillar, I can’t disappear.

I was here.