they’re thought bubbles that form like clouds,
as quickly as they form they disappear with an exhale.
the color of the ceiling, the paintings on the wall,
his newly tanned skin & her coral-colored shirt;
if I don’t observe,
don’t capture even the most insignificant details of the place where every moment is becoming a memory,
I’ll have no memory to look back on in 10 years.
i won’t remember the sound of their voices, what they were wearing, the restaurant’s smell, our silly conversations,
that day will be a fog,
something out of a wonderful dream I can’t recall,
can only remember how it made me feel.