three hundred
thousand mountains
of eraser dust
unable to capture
eyes like those
imperfect lips
(i like it that way)
in a sky unmatched in
three hundred
thousand years
of revolving
in a breathless
fish tank
of fireflies
a moment so long
(i felt myself grow)
it hit
that a living beathing
forest
forced into
three hundred
thousand sheets
of chemically treated
possibility
could not capture
a moment that
belongs to two
by one
three hundred
thousand piles
of eraser dust
i would know
ive tried