the inventory

in this catalogue of us
the lists of qualities and memories
(which amount to no more than days
when stacked up one against the other –
perhaps weeks if we are generous)
i failed in my description of how others saw you
for no one else ever had (seen you, I mean)
and that in itself screamed as evidence
that it was all a flash of whimsy
a wish on a half-breath
never fully exhaled
except for those moments i expelled
the contents of my lungs into yours
in an act of sheer defiance
and unrestrained love.

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