[10 April 2021]
I used to dream about the time we spent
together, but I’m past the point of feeling
nostalgic for something that was never mine.
June is a month of beginnings and endings –
I say to myself. I’ve forgotten the touch
of your fingertips, but the splash of rain on my face –
somehow it reminds me of you.
Even if we can’t have what we had again,
somehow I know I can’t forget.
Even if I can’t remember your name,
somehow I know I won’t forget.
I run my hands over the back of my neck and
close my eyes. A rush of wind, a brown brick
wall, a fortress of sheets, a canopy of stars –
somehow it reminds me of you.
The frost this year still clings to the tips of the
flowerbuds and the new blades of grass,
even in April. Is that how it always works?
Somehow it reminds me of you.
Spotlight, streetlight, headlight, lamplight.
Memories too mine to lose.
Twilight, midnight, firelight, moonlight.
Memories too lost to be mine.
Somehow it all reminds me of you.
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