Flicker

What were we? It feels like a flash of a memory. If I was a bit more lucid, I’d think I made you up in my insanity. That era was one of chaos. I was breaking apart, so forgive me if I can’t believe you saw me whole. You had my curiosity; I had your attention. We talked about the world, but how come it felt like I never knew you? I had your lips under the oak tree on a summer picnic blending with autumn leaves. Your friends pressed themselves against the hotel room door until you dispersed them. We lit our matches, winking away the difference of age, and it still brings a smile at the absurdity of distance, when those moments were the opposite of. But this fire ended too soon; the rush to blow out the candle and scurry up three floors before curfew hit is the wind to me now. We flitted between business casual and casual business like nobody’s business. I have been avoiding your consciousness of late; you know I’m leaving, you know you’re staying. Everything ends, but this flicker didn’t just blow away, it burned your name into me. So accept this lighter, and I’ll take the air away on a paper leaf.