a girl on a bench

i hear you talking
in the wind
the way the birds sing
is it you, is it you?
the flowers tickle each other
the wind tickles my skin
and passes through
is it you, is it you?

when i talk to myself
i find you there
you wander into my mind
and take over my thoughts
i hang onto the words,

... ... ..

in my bed
while I sleep
you’re in my dreams
the dawn of the sun
erasing the evidence
i clutch onto the sheets
the silk of the pillow
i cling onto
all I have left of you
i promise i’d sleep
forever
if it was you
i was coming back to

but did you leave me?
i stopped dreaming of you

a candle or two
burns for you
next to your bones
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
a bird wanders and
gets lost

moments pass us by,

fleeting

a picture or two

a dream that replays

a note in a journal

but there are pieces 
left out

like the jokes that 
made you laugh
the color of the sky that day
the way the breeze
blew the fabric of your shirt
outlining your energy
the melt of your skin

i close my eyes and i smell you —

— can i bottle it up somehow?
blow the smell from my nose and
capture it
but it isn’t real
there’s nothing left

what if i forget
what is already forgotten?

-gabina