"hello, what is your name?"

the familiar vibration in my ears
that creeps its way into my blood
a buzz
a hum
constant
beneath my skin
when days were louder
like the crash of pots and pans
in my grandmother's house
where the ceiling was littered with butterflies
like the static from empty radio stations
akin to that of crunching snow
and the harsh grating of metal

they are the memories dipped in sepia
and overexposed flashes of light
dripping as they walk on
leaving footprints
a silhouette

it is the fear of our wrinkling hands that drive us closer to the edge
to the end
as the sun and moon rewind in a never ending cycle
a loop
right before a leap of faith
towards that never ending youth
the desperate sliver of summer at the end of a blurry december's haze
when nothing is recognisable
a restart

"hello, what is your name?"