i remember you; only as much as the years have merged into one another. unknowing to how days had wept themselves into years. and like the rolling of a pin against soft dough; everything was soon laid flat on a cold surface and into large sheets. with obvious differences, picked up by capable sight. sometimes it was the areas that remained powdery; throwing a wet blanket over the passing thought of you in desperation, of drenching myself in shock – such that i would be awoken to the stark reality of your departure.
flaky, as i peeled it’s surface; like cartilage of the side of my cuticles. i felt careless; like if i had forgotten you, i was doing something wrong. holding on tight was what felt right. hence, each time your face would drift; a soft blur in my head – i picked up and evaluated every feature; the hook of your nose, a strayed hair of your brow, the slant of your eyes, corners of your lips, the light against your cheek.
then, there were episodes trickled into the deep of time. held together by a thin thread, threatening to snap – i, braided strands to keep it sturdy and strong – balanced. these thoughts disguised themselves into a willing embrace. in faith that if it were appealing enough – i would never leave. i found my place here for many years, creeping back and forth from delusion into actuality. the memory of you felt true and necessary; resurrected upon the sight of the tea you love, a phrase you’d say, legs against wet mud.