Maybe memories

Cool grass under our bodies, my head in his lap, my heart lost in his eyes. I imagine us growing old together, staring up at the clouds like this with grey hair. I clamp down on this memory with every ounce of my soul. Don't forget.

A hidden song, just for us. Played on repeat, etched into my heart, long since turned to stone. No words, just longing vibrating on guitar strings. Only you, always you. I stand in the shower, sobbing, as the song plays in my head. The memory holds onto me, and will not let go.

I love again, not like the first, but more livable. We make love, and laughter, a home, and a family. I gently press each memory between sheets of glass. Wrap them in velvet. Don't let go.

My family's curse. Oblivion before death. Will it come from me? My first kiss, my childhood friends, each happening and event grows cloudy and slippery. My mom's face, my dad's voice. My brother's laugh. Gone. My child. So precious. I hug him desperately. Maybe if I hold him tight enough, my arms will remember, my chest will remember, even when my mind fails me. Maybe I'll escape the curse. Maybe, if I hold on hard enough, I'll keep just enough memories to still be me.