I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

It seems so distant so far away
Your mind wanders to it all the time
Is it the place that you can't shake off?
Or is it the people you grew up with?

You ask, does the place miss you?
Do the people remember you?
Is nostalgia always one sided?
Can the moments be relived?

Will the rivers, the valleys, the trees
Embrace and welcome you back?
Does it make a difference to them?
That you want to return

Can you see yourself in that picture?
Can you still hear the laughter?
Where has everyone gone?
Will the picture ever come alive?

What remains today
Are just images in your mind
Leave it to the others
Let them make their memories now.