It was...
such a short time,
seeming even shorter,
...and had it been longer,
that way – it still'd've seemed;

but how can I be discontented
having ever met a person as you?
just as how can I be sure
the You of Now
is anymore the same?


And to this you,

How shall it I keep,
though now so far from fleeting,
when you've distanced yourself,
leaving Time to Question,
so as to 've never even tried?