is twilight over?
Do you remember how the plastic fires
danced away as we tip-toed
late but unworried
I only remember you turning back for my smile
when you thought you recognized the song
Do you remember how many times
the wheel spun and how many
tickets we won
I only remember you asking that mother to
press our picture into
the shape of memory
Do you remember how much I spent
letting the panda slip by
and how many times I let go
I only remember how nostalgia tastes and Colde
fleeting on your shoulder
Now I’m starting to forget the little things
except for your fish tacos and how you like your chai (coconut, two sugars, and a kiss on the neck), waiting for twilight to end—
is this twilight?
she drives home alone because she knows
he’s afraid of the dark
he holds her closely when the rain pours
and the thunder reminds her
she traces their hearts and future on his chest
when they’re the only two
he wraps himself over her worries
when the still dusk freezes over to what she calls twilight
they lean toward each other
when the same songs sing
but there’s nothing to say
and it all keeps spinning
because forever only lasts as long they remember it
Ajax Fu ’28 (ajaxfu@college.harvard.edu) writes Arts for the Independent.
