Her face

Her face is a blur. Her face is scratched out words on a paper. I wish I could remember her voice and her beauty. Her voice is a broken scratched record repeating with words unclear. Her voice is a song that won't play due to bad wifi. Her face is a fogged up mirror, blurring whatever is in its reflection. Her presence is known but not felt. Her scent is there but indescribable. Her clothes in the back of my closet just a memory. Her memory will never die, but it doesn't change the fact her face is still a blur in my mind.