He would change

his outside,

his clothes,

his hair,

his friends,

his job,

he moved.

Always though these were just masks that would eventually fall away or perhaps he became the mask.

He would catch up to himself.

When he and her where together,

after one of his moods,

ideas would come flooding back to them momentarily of how things could be better.

The ideas wouldn’t stick,

fleeting and intangible they found it difficult to express to each other how things could have been,

or should have been, or sometimes were.

This was the trouble, they were so caught up with trying to define things,

or not that sometimes they forgot to get caught up in the beauty of what they had.