Subtracting reality from memories won't be easy. It's not as easy as writing a poem either. As I see you in this slowly blooming flower and go though the manuscript of the past, I hear the words murmur about her innocence. The void of incompleteness in "Us" won't ever be occupied by anything less than "You". The one who starves, slowly learns how to starve. We too will learn how to hover one day soon.