I can’t recall

But if I try hard enough, I can remember

If I close my eyes, I can remember

 I can remember the before

There must’ve been a before, wasn’t there?

Because there was an after

I am in the after

And the past

Was the present

Which I remember

But my eyes aren’t closed

So maybe I just recall

But I think I can still hear the sound of your voice

And feel the soft warmth of your skin

I feel the tall grass brushing against bare knees

And sweet night air kissing bare neck

But the before remains a little blurry

Because the before was a different after

And the current after comes later than the before

And I’m starting to get confused on what I remember

Or what I recall

But if I shut my eyes tight enough

Maybe I can still hear the sound of your voice

And feel the warmth of your skin

On tall grass brushing bare knees

And night air caressing bare neck

And I remember


This poem is almost entirely nonsensical, yet it is just coherent enough to comprehend. Or at least, I believe so. This was written as a love letter to one of my fondest memories, one where time seemed to stretch to allow me to savor it. Alas, it still ended, and I mourn its loss.