Do you not remember;
first this and first that?
Do you not remember the feel of that, the feel of us, the feel of me? The back of your eyelids - are they not …
Haunted?
With summerfruits,
breezes and light green stains on light washed jeans.
Do ghosts not tap you on your shoulder in the night, wrap their spectre shaped memories around your body and choke the salt right out your lungs?
I do.
I remember it all.