Ticking hands

She gifted me a watch so that I remember her every time.

I don’t wear it anymore.

I wish she’d known that I didn’t need ticking hands to remind me how my heart skipped a beat thinking of her.

I didn’t need free time to remind me of all our beautiful encounters.

I didn’t need flashy displays to miss her ever beautiful face.

All I ever needed was her time; her.

I wish I could tell her she was the best I’d ever met. The best I’d ever meet.

She was the most beautiful person I’d ever known.

She looked pretty when she smiled, prettier when she was upset and prettiest when she cried.

The comfort, warmth and happiness I felt with her were like no other.

That love always finds its way even after numerous heartaches.

That it’s okay to cry but necessary to come back strong.

That I cherish our first kiss more than my first kiss, our firsts more than my firsts.

That all firsts are special, but it’s the seconds and thirds where we realise what our heart’s looking for.

That pasts are great lessons but present, the best present.