I really like the mind tug of being unable to fully
in the whole sense,
catching only a
seeing a snapshot in my mind, only
of your face, and that place, and what it was to
where or then or with or
feeling that thing.
Pleading with my mind to follow the tug and take me
to that time to those things I can’t conjure but would recognise, would
if only I could reclaim them to find what it is that is the
in that smile, the creases in the corners of those eyes, and
of my life and what I thought (or what I didn’t think) when I was lost in the midst
of that point in those arms of that hug.
And this tug ends as it always does, with a
that the briefness of the
will leave me in the same place I was before, and
whatever it is will remain, just
beyond my reach. Elusive.
A loosening of my grip around the
of what the present was
before it became the past that it now is.