Nov.

I imagine us standing over one another like transparencies, silhouettes projected onto the same spot, separated by t.i.m.e. The ocean below, the same though slowly disappearing. Wind blowing in our hair. Both gone in an instant when the light turns on.

I walk along the stone paths and wonder if we’ve ever stepped on the same cracks. If I ever retraced your steps. If you ever plotted mine.

Did we glance upon the same tree, the thousand year sunlight poking its translucent finger-rays through different kaleidoscope leaves? I looked through my eyes, but felt as if I could have been seeing through yours.

my new place, your old. growing ever further apart in time, yet ever closer in s.o.u.l.

living with the same people in different pockets of time.

same and different. we are.

___

May.

the truth is. i’ve forgotten about you.

a figment of the past. of childhood.

have I outgrown your memories like I’ve outgrown my shoes?

have I traded you for something new?

in memory, I cannot find you.

___

Oct.

i took the time to remember you today. to remember what i could. it felt important to record in case i lose more of it as time goes on.

all the words i remember you saying…none of them really warm. but all the things i remember you doing, filled with a fire called love. and i cried because i saw a part of m.y.s.e.l.f.

The most fleeting (moment)

drifts in and out. Of my mind. It’s a diagonal memory. Her smiling face – tilted, small nose, bright-eyed, her fingers, and the warmth of her weightlessness – “When are you going to wake up?”

2 minutes and 3 peanuts from now.

Laughter. “When are you going to come back?”

10 pairs of pants and 20 pieces of rice from now.

You close your eyes, and try to grasp onto…the (memory). Like trying to take hold of a cloud. You cannot –

…She grows older. On the other side of the world. Where you are not.