I have memories
That could be mine,
Selfies of other times.
Gray matter shots
That morph and shift,
Blur and smear
Yet shine.

My phantom snaps
Have smoke and mirrors,
Spectres with borders.
The smell of bacon,
A rising sun,
A carpet hill
To lay upon;
A door that swings
To past future,
A window to see through.

My astral albumn
Haunts my nights,
No light can dim my view.
I think my thoughts
Are photoshopped.
These memories of you.