I remember losing a part of me in her eyes, and a part of me underneath her skin.
I remember the sound of her tears hitting the ground, and her hands clawing, desperate for momentary traction.
I remember all the nothings we held onto, all the everythings we let go.
I remember the tarantism play out into the cold and brief night.
But I don't think flowers in our backyard weathered the storm that night.
I don't think we did.
Her words were the synopsis of my existence, and her lips my saving grace.
And I may have been forgetful before, but I remember now.
I felt every kiss in my toes, I felt every cut perforate to my bones.
I felt my every insecurity melt in the warmth of her melancholic embrace;
Our eyes slow dancing in the predawn darkness filling the room.
I remembered it all. And I wonder sometimes, if she remembers any of it too.