spreading through my veins
a sickness
first in dreams
then in faces i let myself forget
then calls, too blurry-eyed to see the screen
yet somehow typing out your number
muscle memory
old texts dug up from centuries past
a graveyard of memories, excavated — they should be dead
but somehow
somehow
it's you again.
you're back.
S.
{Photo: Angela Kim Flickr}