“thinking of you” but not quite hallmark style

i can’t solidify it.  this passing time?  i can only solidify it by putting it down, wringing it out onto this diary page.  and in every moment there is a new drip beginning just where you finished patching.  it’s not fair, and you’re right, it’s been your turn far too long. 

the time, it gathers in pools or stretches like skin, loose and transluscent but never quite tearing.  and here are all the memories and the memoirs and the souveniers.  everything looms up out of a single object.  its not ever quite a stillness but it comes close, an almost-stillness where the present falls away and you become everywhere you’ve been and everyone you’ve been all at once.  these silly treasures, a jewelry box or a mirror, and all of a sudden you’re nine or twelve or fifteen again, skinny legs and awkward breasts and too much makeup and the scar tissue barely forming.  just a little too raw, that’s how this summer makes me feel.  a little raw in all those delicate places.  and the rawness is good because it means we’re growing, it stings like alcohol on a scrape but it’ll scab over someday and even then we’ll be there, handing each other a bandaid and singing a lullaby, even if its out of tune.