lend me your words (not hands)

the transfixion of memory
is an illusion. we all
know that as life goes
on we transform, and thus
memories exist in other
lifetimes.

pain and longing make
words disappear.

I don't know if I should
ruin everything for a
brief moment for pretending
sometimes, but then the
candle is extinguished
in a slight breeze
and the darkness left
makes everything seem
ancient in disguise.

do you remember that time,
you know, that never happened?

because I forgot, but I wrote
an alternate ending that involved
dancing, stars, and an orchestra.

you should have been there,
really, it was a sight to see.

come join me next time.
be just distant enough that I
can form you into words -
carve you into perfect poetry
so that our memories
far outlast anything
we could have ever done.
it is just natural, so long
as you don't get too close.

just like it has always
been before. the words
become.