Like water, viscous, smooth as mercury
it pulls me under, grasping fingers, dark.
I want to gulp, erase it. Surgery
that can stitch together, remove your mark.
With time, the bolus numb. Thoughts sliced, arranged
discombobulated, in straight neat rows.
You flit, dissolve, a memory estranged,
incorporeal, not, but for the scent of rose.
A picture sits, upon my wall, of you.
alive, awake, for a moment, askew.