Versions of you

When I look at you

I do not see you now;

I see you for the first time 

In class

Wearing a singlet

Your wire-framed glasses

Your steady hands.

I see you on our first date

Engrossed in the movie

You'd already seen

Staring ahead, but looking at me.

I see you on the beach

Eating chips on the sand

Laughing loudly

With your Cheshire grin.

I see you at our wedding

Purple tie, grey suit

Squinting in the sunlight

Holding my gaze.

I see you tucked in bed

Blanket up to your chin

Arms splayed above your head

Glasses still hanging on your nose.

I see all versions of you:

Old, young

Past, present

I see you.

I see you.

Why - An original poem

I would ask myself why I wrote all of this down: why I feel the need to create things, knowing they won't last, knowing they won't change anyone, and won't change the world. 

The world will end and we will all cease to be, and there won't be anyone looking through abandoned houses reading journals and flipping through art books to appreciate the thoughts and feelings I had when I was 17. 

I would ask myself what the point of it all was: why we go through life trying to be happy, trying to hold on, trying to figure out what we're all here for - what I'm here for. 

.

.

.

I asked my therapist why I wrote this all down. Why I felt the need to create for a world that didn't value me, didn't care, wouldn't survive. And her answer resolved me.

Because it helps me now.

Because we live in the present.

Because we love in the present.

Because it aids in my own journey.

And just . . .

Because.

- Nicole