Our poloroid is decaying and even memories aren’t unshakeable, I just realized.

I.) stardust collects on the corner of my windowsills,

spelling bittersweet in the sunken patches on

my heart. it doesn’t seem all that

long ago when we hadn’t disintegrated our starry eyes

into something different. Don’t you think?

or have i made yet another mistake, a blank

chapter in my memory. Yes, i have. yes, darling, i have.

II.) years, and years, and years.

i think i should say “once upon a time”

but it never felt like a fairy tale. even now,

looking back,

i never felt like a Cinderella. i may have been a

Rapunzel, though: it’s been too long; i don’t remember.

back to the point: if i unfold the pockets in my heart

there are tender places i haven’t visited in a long time,

but darling, trust me, they exist. i tucked poloroids of us

in them, of our starry beings,

wild, untamed.

i reached into those folds on a rainy night,

to see what was left of us. my fingers came up to reveal mold

and blood.

III.) yes, darling, that’s the only thing left of us.

we are but decayed flowers taped to my door.

IV.) we decomposed ourselves, once, years ago, I

didn’t think we’d go back there yet again. but we were

born again, were we not?

We Will be Born Again.

We Will be.