I was in love with her first

she was me, in a more indulgent life

she smiled with my face, in a prettier frame

she smelt of my experience, with a wiser perception 

she had the ideas before me

she had the moments first 

she was first 

but I love her

first 

in all the moments

for all the ideas

with all my experience 

with my own face

with out indulgence 

I love her

baby steps back into poetry, it's hard

There aren't any pictures
or diary entries
or memories.

what the hell dude?

don't let it tear

I finally caught up with her, slowed her down
"Why are you so happy?" I asked
She huffed a happy reply "Runner's High!"

"but what are you running from?"

She paused looking behind her, we stopped moving
"Life" She whispered.
Then she collapsed in my arms and I held her while we both cried