Tangible Evidence

Don't act so surprised, please, when
I know you've been waiting for this
day to come. The difference is that
I'm not 15 anymore, and the things
that marked my uniqueness back
then might be useless today. I'm not
the same innocent, wide-brown-eyed
girl I was, but I still can't look at
pictures without memorizing the
features on your face because it's only
the first time I've had tangible evidence
that you were a part of my life, a
touchable part of my life, at some point.
I'm still stuck with confusion eking out
of my every pore and I still want to know
what your face looks like [in person]
today. If it's the last thing I do, I'll take
my own picture of you, with face maybe
drifting closer to mine and fingertips
back where they belong from the times
of bustrips and cardgames and youth.