I'll make this sound as easy as possible.

I should try to make you stay.

You always see me wearing a robe.
But when I show up in memory, I am dancing. Away from my body.

We listen and I try to remember the feeling of ecstasy.
In your mind, I am moving to the same song.

On some platform, that’s where I am.
So high. So I’m the only one you see. Still.

That was then. Now I am lying in bed.
You sit, inside the memory, at the corner.

Once or twice, covering my stomach with a pillow.
You put your head down.

We are so close.
And can’t touch.

You swore you wouldn’t sleep with me.
Unless there’s a couch.

But I gave it away, and toss a coin.
To know if I can get it back.

I can’t. Not in time.

It’s one face of reality.
And has nothing to do with whether I should.