a partial loss

by JOANNA LEE

let’s run

our fingertips along echoes

of laughter preserved in wine glasses.

memories whisper, sirens, coax

half-smiles blurred with regret

as we forget

cinnamon-spiked tears evaporated to

mist, connections, lost:

can you hear me?

I hear amnesia can fix my ennui

fix, your melancholy, besides;

what’s a time zone to our legacy?

let’s soak

our story in the candlelight

of retrospect, glowing, flames, lap the edges.

let’s exist

in the fissures

of what we used to be.