and then, a year after i started this place, i rolled into a circle and tucked myself between the pages of history.

and where i open that chapter, flattened, is where i remember the beauty and forget the pain.

i remember corners and chords and christmas lights - yes, cameras and even colds - and i've mentioned it before, but as fall ripens i am compelled to remember.

two years after my hand beneath your chin, i'm stepping into a new life, where past, pressed pages fade away, distant and dusty.

but they remain, always, there. no se puede borrar.

and to hear your songs, even now, is to fall backward into a blanket of snow and autumn leaves and riverbanks and apple orchards.