I contort your words 

inside out until

they are mangled. 

I can’t use syllables,

sound siphoned.

We forget

our skin clinging 

to the mattress dragged

out on the fire escape.

We forget

the weight

of our names as

a slivered sun dies

between wisps of hair 

descending in the river. 

We forget 

how it is enough to race

our palms over walls in  

empty apartments. 

But the song they wrote,

without noticing 

our laughter fell,

without appreciating 

we stand

under the same sun

at the same time,

without knowing 

we strangle vowels too, 

drives us to claw 

at our yesterdays

decaying into memory.