To My Lolita

She was most beautiful to me and I love her so.

My Z. Her scarlet lips and dark hair. Her sad expression.


Twin of eyes that slightly closes when I kisses her.

Ninety pounds and ten little fingers with broken nails


She is more beautiful now than then

And my soul bleeds knowing that it has lost her


Dying of pain and remorse.

Certainly, others would find another much more beautiful.


Certainly, a few would see her like how she

Opened herself to my eyes. To my soul.


She would be another’s.

But to me, she will always be my Nyan.


Ma Cherie. My Lolita.


Her kisses, her gentle breath in my arms

As she closes her eyes,


The little movements of time passing through

Between the gaps of our clasped hands,


Her tears. Laughter. All of these will stay with me

And mine, to hers.


Our little secrets and quiet afternoons:

It will only be kept between us.


She may never reach for my hands again

But how did we loved with fire in the blood


Running from my veins to hers

Melting my heart to poetry and made the universe


Unfold the beauty that is reflected in her eyes

Little infinities.


I may forget her, someday. I may forget of who she was

And the love that she made possible.


But I will try to remember her as long as I live.

Love her as this life was meant to, My Z, My Lolita.


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