Pointing at a picture, glued firmly in her memory but with a view blocked by scattered gatherings on the table, she says that’s the real me, or at least the me I need to be. Shoving aside casually the trinkets and charms, she reveals a confused white girl swarmed with small brown children.
I’m forgetting your name already. Sweet face that comes to me when I dream, sings me to sleep, smiles at me so many times- so many repeated pictures cuz I was bored and you were beautiful. A warmth above the left side of my tummy, aches my heart when I wake up.
This fragile memory so forgetful. It would take nothing but a few hours, a road trip, a fill up, a voice wrecked by car karaoke - To see you on a swing set, a coffee house, a walk, a hug a chitchat till tomorrows midnight. But time is never what truly separates us, is it
