It's Not Even Been a Year. It Feels Like Forever.

Something about 10:30 PM,
Standing in a towel watching water dry off
The edges of pineapple eyed hair ,
Scrolling up and down, changing keywords asking Google
How does it feel?
How does it *feel*?
Lay the emphasis on any of those four words,
The keywords are the same.

How do I save the Tea Like Goldilocks Likes It
That created temporary testimonies:
The graffiti of our presence
In Khuranaji's mostly alone spaces?
How do I explain I like the irregularity of your teeth
Because I guess your parents got prescient enough
To see that teeth help make words and they
Didn't want to let your words muffle even temporarily.
You get your spirit from them.

How do I explain, with syntactic perfection, that
I only ever captured you laughing
Because I'd like you made permanent like that.
(Except do you see
the irony in capturing)

How do I explain we've built history on history when we've written word on word on word
In classes
And I never throw notebooks away
But I hope to make paper planes out of those pages
Because why must something so beautiful not see the light of the day?

That day, we wanted the twilight to remain.
Except it isn't really THAT day,
Because there have been so many of them.