I Forget What I Remembered

I love the most in the morning, when we are born again.

Clean and awake to another.

Our bodies alongside, singular and with the other, smelling like ourselves.

I have lost a language and I don’t know who I am.

The sounds fall in between dreams and skin, and I forget again what I remembered.

What I remembered.

And I forget again what I remembered.

What I remembered.

How true can anything become, and how do we know the difference?

Everything is happening at once and I am happening with it.

How true can anything become?

And how do we know the difference?

I do not ask about belonging, or for a voice to call when there is no other.

Every hour every frequency rings in me like exclamation marks, and so I let them.

I reach out and I can feel you like I haven’t before.

The sounds fall in between dreams and skin and I forget again what I remembered.

How true can anything become, and how do we know the difference?

Everything is happening at once and I am happening with it.

How true can anything become and how do we know the difference?

Everything is happening at once and I am happening with it.