Memory

I see it again

a flicker a cracked mirror

your laugh sliding through the room like sunlight

but maybe it wasn’t sunlight

maybe it was the hum of the old ceiling fan

the smell of rain on dry pavement

or that one jasmine blossom I swear I caught on my tongue

Was your voice soft?

I can’t tell

it’s tangled with the screech of car tires

the distant bark of a dog I never owned

Did you wear that jacket the one with the torn sleeve?

I remember the sleeve but the jacket

maybe I’m mixing you with someone else

or maybe memory likes to dress you up for the times you aren’t really here

The floor creaked under our feet

or was it the couch?

It doesn’t matter

The weight of your eyes

how they caught mine and held

or maybe just glanced away like a fleeting shadow

that’s what haunts me still

I can’t tell if the air was warm or cold

The moment was both heavy and light

like a balloon caught in a sudden gust

floating too high too fast

or like a whispered goodbye

that slipped from my lips before I understood it

You smiled

or was that wishful thinking?

A kindness I needed to remember

to soften the edges of the silence that followed

Sometimes memory stings

sometimes it sings

but always

it’s a ghost

that refuses to leave the room.