Reminders
remembering at 9:04 p.m. on 2004-07-08

Distance in gradients of color.

The disintegration of memory that dissolves -inevitably- past my own awareness, and into the absence of words...and taste, and sound. The moldable shape of our love, when our hands have stopped working the clay.

I love you in the darkness, and in the light.

I love you in my own capacity to love, in which I am never sure of its walls. Of it's truthfulness, of its will.

I love you past my inability to hold my dignity any higher than my own flesh.

You are beyond my flesh.

And yet memories walk, and talk, and live and die. They are just as mortal as I. They are just as tainted as sadness, just as beautiful as delight.

I am still humbled by their gentle reminders, when again I see your face-

And I am convinced of your memory's truth.

never was � never will be

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