Mnemonic Love

I write letters addressed to the strange something that keeps the strings mingled, unseen to the ordinary eye,

and read them aloud in my mind with my mouth shut.

A quiver running down my body, a smile curving at the edges of my lips,

a long-forgotten memory of how our shadows danced when the lights were dim and sleep was a luxury,

and how all the songs our heads were full of were often hummed on the dirt-filled roads of cities unknown,

How time moved differently, and so did our feet, which fell everywhere, and yet it did not feel like falling,

Looking at you, echoes of the words would ring in my ears from the poems I failed to remember when I was a kid,

I also have not forgotten when the clouds roared in the middle of absolute silence

and we pulled the curtains wide to another world, that brought with it the dampness reaching places we could not,

Swelled up like a river, stripped down to the bones, we stood with an old fervour.