Memories are like Dead Flowers…

Through the fog that clouds my mind.

I still see some things so clearly.

The smile that causes the creases of those laugh lines.

Lighting up the deep pools of brown that keep me warm…

Safe place to swim in until that bittersweet moment,

Where eye contact breaks.

The melody of his deep laugh…

Like the base that played only for the reserved tables on our first date.

Missing…

The feeling of my hand being enveloped in his.

Being lazily woken up from his arm wrapping around my waist in the night…

Pulling my body closer into his while we sleep.

His presence,

Still clinging to the spaces inside my mind…

That the fog hasn’t reached yet.

Has my memory been lost in the fog?

Am I thought?…

Am I many thoughts?…

Am I still those idiosyncrasies you love?

Am I missed?

Is our love meant to be another story left for the fog to envelope…

Memories,

Like dead flowers…

Beautifully displayed & freshly cut…

Not blinking so as not to miss any small detail of them.

Inhaling deeply before the scent is lost.

Now?

Luster lost.

Vibrancy gone.

Beauty forgotten.

Leaving behind crinkled,

Colorless…

Dust.

A mess.