You remind me of the old abandoned quarry that was turned into a reservoir. We were lethargic lovers, I dreamt of picnics over the board-walk, the swans begging and always somewhere between a deified species; and clumsy birds that scare the **** out of us. A film-still moment at best, I lay still as you inspected your vanity, and then kissed me to pin me to the bed.

You remind me of the guilty taste of beer, as I find myself all alone again. There was once a time that we flourished in the cemetery, but now that's long-passed, and we're cynical fools again. You remind of cats out at midnight, of early-hour lorries delivering food in the dawn. More so you remind me of bus-stops, of always waiting for the signal, but never getting on.

You remind me of a circumstantial meeting. One born out of interest for the other. In some ways formal, in most ways desire, my jaw is still hanging from the moment that you left. I miss that feeling of your speech pattern, as it lingered in well-spoken tones, I miss the heat of the sunlight; and now I feel like a shattering of bones. Forgive the rhyme, it escaped me, as I cover up disappointment. I'm not quite sure what I'm disappointed about, but it's there all the same inside.

You remind me of poetry in vivo, the way that you just pour from my mind. A silly fit of nothing-at-alls, but simultaneously offering up my life. I think that your face fits like a portrait, the archetype I have long placed in my mind of what I believed love would look like. Then you walked through the door. My eyes are too swollen from tears to really take everything in, but I see you all the same. It's as if I've been seeing this my whole life.