Prosopagnosia

I am terrible with faces

Even those I’ve known for years
I struggle to see in my mind

Which makes these days I’m not with her
So much harder

My imagination
Unable to envision
The one my heart desires

For when I try,

The curves of her cheeks
Become cursive words of elegant odes

Her hair is sheet music
Swaying in the wind
To the tunes of her voice
Which strike me like a song

Her eyes, reflective pools
In which I see just myself,
But in a new light

So even if I can’t see her face in my head when I close my eyes,
No matter how badly I want to,
I can at least be grateful
That my heart still remembers
The feelings you bring

I can at least be grateful
That the heart
Won’t ever forget