I've heard that the first and last are those remembered, but neither stays, nor all those in between, the then and now.

We lose first the face then the feeling, like a thing we hold a little too tight, but then suddenly we have no tenderness, no memory of holding, no memory of soft beds.

Just standing in the hallway between here and there, wondering what could we have possibly said to fill that void.

First breaths, the walls echoing soft moans or thunderous wails.
Frozen prision pizza, the last meal of a dying relationship.

Maybe in that space beyond anything we known, perhaps your tiger tails of dash and dust will cross mine, an arcadia light years from now.

Perhaps I will remember your sent, your smile, the arch of your back, or the way your nails dug into my skin as your lips curved to whisper my name
     before black arcs
                                     Deeper
                                               Into
                                                      Black
Scre­aming past planets and memories that have no name to me any more.
However, what truly stays? Even this moment is now
gone.