when you're deep
in sleep
Blood boils and then freezes in your veins.
The awoken, long-lost, forgotten memory,
captured in the curves of the nerves in your brain,
emerges unexpectedly
from the mysterious wells of the passed days
or years,
a compact,
compressed,
complex feeling that dissolves before your eyes
leaving a momentary taste in your mouth,
a transient scent in your nose,
just a single image,
a blurry, old picture of you,
no words,
no sounds.
You wake up.
In the mirror
you look at yourself,
you look for yourself,
whispering behind your lips
as if attending a funeral,
your own,
"Where's me?
I've changed
and I'm missing myself."
