You were not supposed to recognize me.
How could anyone believe we are as similar
as we seemed to think on that night
unless you were a magnet without bounds,
without universal laws of attracting opposites?
I was not supposed to recognize you,
but how could I overlook my favorite fixture
that the carousel brought back before me?
A unicorn with a mirror for a horn.
“You are comfortable with me.”
“I am comfortable with you.”

You were not meant to become words on a page,
no, words were the last thing on my mind
when you laughed when I told you
to think and speak freely without my assurance.
You effortlessly pulled the words from my lips
and still they hover in the winds that surround you,
but in that bliss I could not tell
exactly where it is that they did land.

If they fell to the ground where we sat
I would not have known the difference,
but I was sure that they did not miss their target
when the pressure of your hand
reminded me that we exist at least once
somewhere in the space of time.
“How do I get on your level?”
“I do not want to get that deep.”
Remember the words that were spoken
and let them haunt you when you need them,
with the weight of a stone pendant on your neck.

There was not a comfort you could have requested
that I would have turned away
and so you were granted freedom for your hands,
because if only for that night
we found shelter in ourselves
from the storm of chaos that waited for each of us.
I was not supposed to remember that night,
but it is difficult to drown out
how our words brushed gently against our skin
and the desire in your eyes
as you stared into my own
trying desperately to remember
what place and time this happened before.