i hold
your words like flower petals
pressing my fingers together
and my hands close
against my chest
to keep moments from slipping
out of my early morning memory

and as the sky paints itself
brushstrokes of peach and smoky violet
i tally up the petals
between my fingers
arrange them on my bedspread
in the shape of my child’s heart
looking for patterns
in the veins
and tears from over use
and less than careful handling

maybe one day
when the empty space between
folds in on itself
and leaves us
whispering into the same air
i will gather my handful
of memories
press them into the palms of your habds
and hope they weigh the same
to you
as they do to me