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. That which is not deliberate”. When I am brave, words and sentences and thoughts drop from my mouth. They roll around in spaces we occupy. Our kitchen, our bed, hallway… I pretend it makes no difference to me. Like 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 or did we buy it together? Well, it is now mine. It was always mine.
“Yet?”
“Already.”
This wood is not him.’ The lack of word tells you that language can’t substitute for life, but it can substitute for something.You cannot take away the snow from me.
“What?” I yelled against the wind.
He said, “nothing,” back.
‘I don’t quite belong here.’ While we laid bare, but his hands still found my breasts.
Yet.
Already.
Another way to define why he clothed, to explain how I came with, why I endure wave after wave. I cannot look away.
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. Thought is. On another side, what about the bitter? Where’s our connection? Is it just a word?
Which 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 touch me, to touch you, to leave a mark, which is nothing.
“Anchor me.”
“Not if we sail dreams.”
