I forget how I got here.
Him? Maybe.

Sometimes I wonder what remains. If nothing remains there is nothing to carry. “Forget,” he said, “like how I forget to use articles in the English language.”
Words and sentences and thoughts drop from my mouth. I pretend it makes no difference to me. “The chair you use to sit on in the kitchen, what if it is just a memory of a chair? Or the chair his grandfather left him?”
“Yet?”
‘This wood is not him.’ The lack of word tells you that language can’t substitute for life, but it can substitute for something“

What?” I yelled against the wind.M
He said, “nothing,” back.

‘I don’t quite belong here.’ While we laid bare, but his hands still found my breasts.
Yet.

Another way to define why he clothed, to explain how I came with, why I endure wave after wave. To outline why I still gaze:
“Sail. On dreams. Away. With me?”
“I can’t live on one thought or one human being.”
“A human being is milk and honey.”
“On another side, what about the bitter? Where’s ourconnection? Is it just a word?”
“Place me on your tongue. Realize a human being is me, a me, the me in relation to you.” My hand in his hand on his heart, “a lifetime spent to touch you, to leave a mark.”
“Which is nothing.”
“Anchor me.”
“Not if we sail dreams.”