I smell like ocean and summertime lotion and all of the waves of lime that come onto shore and salt my wounds and sparkle in the sun. I memorized every constellation of pores on your skin and felt every fold of you and tasted the air from your lungs, expelled in ecstasy or sleep. I studied every facet of you through prisms of reflected light, I saw your colors reflected in the leaves and candle flames. I thought I caught a glimpse of you again, but I woke up again, and I just can’t quite remember. You’re in periphery, you’re on the very tip of everything, around the corner of every thought- waiting there for me, to look me in the eyes before I blink.