I’m listening to a song
That one by Sam Smith.
Reminds me of you, he calls it.
I don’t know why I see your face,
Why it is you that I taste on the tip of my tongue.
Why the dam of memories break again and again.
And why the flood does not drown me.
The snapshots of who we were are perhaps too bright.
I can still smell the scents we created.
And if I stretch my finger, maybe I can touch the past.
I’d reach for the days of magic and laughter,
To walk beside you with my arm around your slender waist,
Searching for rivers and finding bliss,
Nestling in skeletal buildings within the city where the rains never stop.
People say it’s best to bury memories, far within the earth,
Never to see the sun or air. Burn it if you can, they say.
How can you bury a rainbow? Or hide the sun with a basket?
Why should I hide the best part of me? Or feel shame for ecstasy.
Or apologise for the days I found wings. Just because we are no more.
No matter where life takes me,
Sweetheart, when I remember you… I smile.