You Are My 7 Minutes
When I die, you will be in my final seven,
A slow, slideshow of the memories we made.
Moments engraved in time's delicate embrace,
Where the memories refused to fade.
The first time I saw you, in that class,
Where my heart changed it's pace.
It was an ordinary day,
That turned sacred under your grace,
The sensation, when the pulse in my hand suddenly rose,
As I sent that friend request through Facebook, like a fragile plea.
It was a small hope that you might accept it,
Opening an opportunity for me.
Our first text, when words blossomed sweet and bright,
Each chat felt like a rose blooming under moonlight.
And when my eyes met yours, the heart skipped a beat,
For in your gaze, I found both sky and retreat.
When your hands touched mine,
The universe stood still.
With your presence,
My wounds started to heal.
As my last minute draws near,
I will gradually begin to fade.
The screen will turn black, but not my view.
And the last thing I remember before death, will be the memories of you.