the details are starting to slip. i remember one of your red dots, placed carefully over a buldging vein on your right bicep (or was it the left). the scar above your eyebrow. the knobbiness of your knees. the hardness of your shins. the scratch of your twoday growth of stubble. the mole in your navel. the pads on the tips of your fingers. your terrible cuticles.
maybe this is sufficient. but there is so much more to recall. more that should be etched into my memory after six years of memorization, of devout study.
i'm losing you like i've lost the French Revolution and hydrostatic equilibrium.
by no fault of our own, we are utterly forgettable, well equipped to adapt, but painfully irreplaceable. the trauma to know that life does, indeed, go on stems from the shifting of organs and hormones and my propensity for making reckless decisions to fill the place that you once held.
older gbook notes moi rings wish love dland