I may not remember everything,
every single detail we shared,
dates grow vague along with
some words that may have slipped.
But I remember you in the best way.
The songs you played when telling me
how they broke your heart for the first time,
the notes that seemed to seep through skin
and wrap around your core with nostalgia.
I remember some things with painful clarity.
I remember the last storm that broke,
my fragrant and silky flower,
you smelled like sweet daisies and rainfall,
it poured like tiny stones hurled at the earth,
and although the sky relentlessly boomed,
you pressed my head tight to your chest
to hear the thunderclaps in your heart.
I’ll remember how that’s when every confession
was given to you through my skin.
I’ll remember that’s when I handed over
so much more than just a body.
A connective tissue forever between us.
And even though some snapshots fade,
others have been flashed into me permanently,
an exposure forever seared into this being,
pressed into me like a carbon copy.
I remember you in the best way.
When you once said I was every thought
caved deep below your bare skin,
sweet dreams embedded in the flesh,
the essence of who I am aching through you
just like the electricity lighting up my eyes
at even the mere whisper of your name
that has always fled through my thirsty lips.
I remember some things with painful clarity.
I remember bursting inside of you,
I remembered where your blood
coursed through my veins as a drug,
when your heartbeat kept me alive,
the only echolocation I’ve ever known,
gently guiding me to where I’ve always belonged.
I’ll remember how that’s when every confession
was given to you through my skin.
I’ll remember that’s when I handed over
so much more than just a body.
A connective tissue forever between us.
