Lethologica

You remind me of the after taste I can't quite put a finger on, or the sensation of the wind needling my bones in the blistering cold, or the warm flush that engulfs my body after drinking a warm cup of tea. A street light flickers in the black night; in and out of my consciousness you drift. And I am here, heartstrings plucked like a guitar, sending shivers down my spine. Your gaze like a lighthouse guiding the lost; the riptide twists my stomach into knots, pushing me out farther from our faded footprints as you disappear from my horizon. If you were the moon, I would be the tides; helpless, your gravity pulling me back towards shore every time I begin to drift away.