Don't Forget to Remember This

I was worried I'd forget the shape of us,

curled in crescents. 

The moon draped on our sand dune bed.

Luna's braided light the only blanket we needed.

 

I have a secret you must keep, 

I asked of you.

It's something far more 

precious than instant gratification.

But there were hurried dreams on your lips,

you needed them on mine.

I tried to taste them. 

They were green and sour,

like not quite-ripe Granny Smiths;

Your desirousness too crisp

 

I didn't want to be rude.

I tangled into you.

Sandy drifts and Kairos swallowed us

in those Sleeping Bear Dunes.

Lost in moments meant to be unremembered,

the deepest voices of the land reminded me,

don't be in such a hurry.

 

Not yet, I warned you.

The dappled stars 

won't remember our names.

I didn't blame them,

we weren't ready to be etched, 

our constellations too vague.

 

You wanted more, pleaded for it.

Your hands made of greed.

I wasn't meant for single digit flings,

I was from the womb of eternity.

I needed a promise of infinity. 

An oldness had settled in my marrow

before I was born.

When I hurried,

everyone else paid the price.

 

Not yet, I said.

You weren't good at listening,

I was better at saying no.

But we only live once, you reasoned.

I knew death was a lie, but you didn't yet.

I breathed in the starlight,

it burned my lungs bright.

My voice a tight beam, 

my resolve a thing

that screamed from my alveoli.

 

If you ask again

It'll be a never!

 

You heard me eventually.

 

What if we don't remember this moment?

you asked.

 

But I always do.

 

Flecks of time,

sifting from neuron to neuron.

I don't forget much, only when I need to.

 

You scare me, your voice wavered.

 

You'll keep this secret, I demanded.

Please remember, that we aren't meant to last forever.