It all gets kind of fuzzy, doesn’t it?
You live so long with each other
the lines that outline edges, the shape of things
get a little fuzzy
blend into each
so what was mine is now yours
and so it goes, all the way back to
those behemoth events that finally bring to focus
what memory cannot decipher: a birth, a death
a decision unaltered and forever fixed
reset the timeline to reinvent, inform how things are.
The way your lips parted when our eyes met.
The weight of your hand on my neck.
The last words you ever said.
Moments in time clear and absolute
folded so closely into the delicate heart of eternity
never to be found, understood
by he who the memory does not possess.
– © 2009 Andrew Kooman