When the city speaks in whispers
over the shouting of animals
and ca-cawing of birds
I trace the lines of your face
against the case of my pillow
wondering again why things have taken so long

While life is so short
one quick gulp of the fantasy
now to rest in fluidity too shallow to tread
So I think of you often
and I forget you even more
not for memory because we're timeless
but for my own idea of the calendar

It's based on howls and ghosts
on improperly relaying messages
and what I truly loved most
And what kind of test this is
and incorrectly translating
endless lists of wistfulness

What kind of test is this?