Consistency

I need to know.

Will you still love me by tomorrow?

Can your hands hold mine and stall the tremors in my wrists?

Do your lips remember the way mine taste in the early morning before we get up for work?

Have you forgotten the warmth of the sun as it kissed my bare skin in sandy hotel rooms?

Sometimes I feel like an amnesiac, reliving every moment on my own. Wondering if they happened in the first place, or if these are the stories you tell me to keep me at peace.

I need to know,

Will you still love me by tomorrow?