I look at old pictures of you and I
and see how quickly time can fly,
and as it does, how things can change;
how now those memories seem so strange.
I see that bright smile on my face
as it nestles into your shoulder: the softest place.
The picture is burned into my brain,
and I wonder if I'll ever smile that way again.
In those photos we were in another world,
and it's like I'm looking at another girl:
smiling, blissful, and ever free.
Is it possible that girl was even me?
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