Running Out

I’m running out
of memories.
Those tangible moments
I can feel with my skin,
they are slipping back
into that darkness
where I found you.
My fingers fall
through the fog
of a life lived only
in dreams
and I need
to remember
so my fingers
are red with clinging,
my knuckles
black with clawing
at those ephemeral moments
where you loved me,
where we were us
and all of this
was a distant
and impossible future.

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2 thoughts on “Running Out

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