are the memories that escape nostalgic hands the most precious?
the ones with the unclipped wings
the ones you want to recall and travel back into but can’t remember the details around
the voices you want to play in your ear but no longer can distinguish the tones
.
are those the ones encrypted in flesh?
.
married to marrow
hiding in spongy cell chambers
floating within the seas of you
disguising themselves in familiar
laugh patterns
hand gestures
song choices
.
the ones who don’t need names or distinction
.
to still be
.
everywhere
. . .