Textures

Memories are not mere images of the mind
Often, we can feel it at our fingertips, taste it on our lips,
Ringing on our ears, suffocating our each breath
Even from the past three, five, or ten years

Some memories you can easily see
Like finding an old blurry photograph
Candid and stolen from an unimportant moment
His fleeting gaze, a look of regret, and genuine love staring right at you

Some memories you can hear
Like an old tune that reminds you of the anthems of childhood
His careless laugh, drumming fingers, the proximity of shared earphones
So close, you can almost hear the sound of two beating hearts

Some memories you can smell
Like his favorite cologne all over his school uniform
His hands when soaped, the musty collection of books inside his room,
The euphoric scent of his neck as you embrace

Some memories you can taste
Like the mix of cigarette and beer when you first kissed
The salty tears that fell for him, alone inside your room
And that sweet smile you wanted to lick off his lips

And some memories you can touch
Like the vibration of two fingers inches apart, but never touching
The rough edges of his hands from keyboards and guitar strings
Or the softness of his cheeks as he sleeps helplessly on your shoulder

These cocktails of our memories spill out of nowhere
Blinding, deafening, numbing, and setting fire to our senses
Forgetting all distance, years, regrets, and youth past
Like seeing, for the first time, a shadow of who we once were