I want to find other words to explain to you 

how memory weighs on me

the contour of skin over cheeks, 

puffing out like the sweetest apples

under deep blue eyes

where you hold me still, unable to move 

backward or forward because I 

don’t want to lose you again.

So I stay arrested, a willing captive because

 I can hear your voice, 

your  questions that make me feel

unqualified and yet determined

especially the one I have for you

—will you come back to me as more than

memory at the end of the world.