Maybe I don’t forget ’cause I never leave. See, I can remember the time my anxieties put me on my knees, the color of your clothes the first time we met, when my dad told me he was like me when he was younger, the time a stranger said “hey you motherfucker”, I’m not a motherfucker, Im not a face buried in your hands, Im not a kid, I’m not playing with you, not even when we both hid and you forgot and I stayed there, choosing dark skies ’cause bodies are constructed by absence, but around six or seven the day is grey and I hate it, like being surrounded by poisonous fog, one you can’t wear off even with alcohol raining on it or the tips of your fingers burning like blowtorches while you try to comfort yourself maybe too late, still you keep trying, small things first, talk, write, answer, reach…

Remembering is a grenade between your fingers.

http://whenhandshear.tumblr.com/