Reflections.

' All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. '

-Tori Morrison.





What does it mean?

Water goes everywhere,

does it not?

Or does water stay,

residing where it was born?

Do memories travel with us?

Or is a part of it in that water we made?

I ask myself this,

every

single

day.

When I got that knock at the door,

when I saw that badge,

I knew what happened.

I went out,

found the perfect dress;

ebony,

what a classic.

A veil I wore,

the isolation I felt.

Did I attend a social gathering,

after that first year?

I didn't dare.

My mind went straight back to water.

The water we spent near our entire lives,

in case you decided to creep back there.

I kneeled beside that greenish blue body,

my reflection only contained an old, mournful soul.

I could've sworn,

from the corner of my eye,

I saw a piece of hair,

in the cloud of the sky.

Am I crazy?

Am I mad?

Or were you all I really had?

Because memory,

needs water.

And water,

holds memory.



The next year, I tried a puddle when it rained.

I simply felt nothing,

you weren't there.

Our love,

our bond,

it was so strong,

that how could I?

How could I indulge,

in just a mere puddle?

When that green blue,

could barely hold just you?

An ocean,

the Atlantic would do.

It has enough room of love,

for just me and you.