The darkened hall grew around me
as she came, the breath in my
lungs filled and stilled, halting as I halted
the moment from passing
her skin without blemish, her hair
so short compared to my own
her eyes black voids to another
universe no longer recognized
her mouth turned up, though sewn
closed locking inside a world once
seen clearly in a childlike mind
and though time was still, all I
had ever wanted was looking at me
and it was the most terrifying experience
of my half life and I wondered
how scared was she, staring
into the future? I wondered if to her
my eyes were fallen, my skin so pale
especially in the muted gray
if she saw a destroyed fantasy
or a kiss of hope, and I wondered
if she knew too much because
sometimes it is best to be uncertain
and be happy than to be sure
but always disappointed
but my fear turned to agony when she
acknowledged my existence that
in the turn of this realm I am real
that she accepted me for all I
am and never will become
so dear I hold her, so far away she stands
with one arm gracefully raised
“Take me with you,” a prayer to understand
but I cannot, I will not
because I want her to remain uncertain
in loving memory.

sly as intruder air
        piercing the helm of noon

when i remember you
        worlds come out of my beat

when i forget you
      these worlds puncture themselves in a slow unison of dying, reverting back to its
   state of unearthing

the dark holds itself back
   to wash me with light
    squinting through ajar windows.
  and now this,
     thrill-seeking hapless thralls
    of distant embrace
   and now this,
      the span of a wing's flight
    fans itself through elevation
   until nothing is within reach
  but trails of an elusive visage.

When I was younger
I stood there waiting.
I stood there,
Waiting for someone who would not come,


Back,


Against the cold damp wall I stood,
As an unwanted postage stamp,


Forgotten,


Waiting to be remembered.
I watched,
As I stood there.

It is pure, unadulterated hell
to remember your soft touch.
The way you laughed at my horrible jokes.
The kisses, the stars we watched,
the bus rides,
the music we both loved,
the songs we danced to together in your room.
It is all so hard, like walking on a wire that was fun before
but now my harness is gone and it's actually dangerous.
Thinking about you is a delicate disaster,
but I do it anyway.


(d.d.b)

A memory is like a movie that plays back,
Over and over.
The definition of memory is an event that has past.
One that you still remember.
So if I remember every word,
Every story our tears told,
Then my name is memory.
Nice to meet you.