I awoke, and I was alert as if I had always been conscious. It was a strange feeling to be there, to be present. I lay in bed, looking at the painting. I wanted to know what language you were thinking in when you painted it. Or maybe no language. Perhaps it was a babbling stream of thoughts connected only by your personal history, ideas that wouldn’t add up to anyone else. Thoughts tethered together by the tiniest of threads strung together in perfect fragility.

oh where oh where oh where oh where
that is how this poem starts
in my mind.
i asked myself, ‘do you recall
where you left that emotion?’
but i couldn’t.
so i just bought time
trying to wait it out
by asking,
oh where oh where oh where

i placed delicate lily petals
on the floor
and lit candles.
the light crept around
the darkness,
along with the sounds of summer
and the heat –
such heat.
i can’t remember your taste,
a memory i can leave
in the past,
but the lily petals,
how they curl inward,
flesh toned and sensual,
they remind me
of who i was –
of who i am –
even as i willingly
release memories of you.