One day, I'll no longer be able to read you like the bluest eye
I will only be able to skim the very few pages I had forgotten I dog eared a while back
My hands will shake , no longer from the butterflies that fill my chest cavities but from the nerves that just can't seem to rest
And the rest
Of me
Will become brittle
 and the marrow
Will deplenish
Slowly
along with
 my letters
And soon
My words will become a bit quieter
Soft like how I'd like the porridge you make me
Soft like those hugs you give me
Like the opposite of the vibrations from your vocal chords
Slicing and splitting the air
Like passion
Soft
And slow
And quiet
And here
And gone
But with you
And
Okay
And
Old
And
And angry I can't remember your name
And smiling with out my dentures
And smelling lavender
And roses
And
An old stuffed giraffe and blankets your mom washed yesterday so it smells real fresh
And
And that pillow that's real torn up but feels real nice on my face
And how you remember that I'm Ishmael too
And how you remember that I'm Ishmael too
Dang it what is your name
What is your god dang name you
Confused angel
Them Sharp teeth
Sharp words
Real cutthroat
You make me rethink the world
You
Make me remember
Sometimes