You

I remember you, (I think.) and you remember me.

Cityscape by Brian Whelan | Source

I remember you,
(I think.)
and you remember me.

But romance autumn bleeds
falsified cries —
without shame, yet with integrity.

I remember the sycamore,
(that wasn’t really there.)
and you remember our floor,

Where divine stars would,
sit and eat —
upon hours, and hours, and hours.

But we did not see, those stars shine,
(an ember burned out.)
too quick.

Because I can’t remember your posture,
or your voice —
trying makes the canyons sick.

But I do remember,
(the scar you left me)
only because I live inside of it.