Who’s lying?

I feel stuck in time

Not just in time, but in a time

One where we’re laying down facing each other

Holding hands next to our heads, and

The other is held between our chests

Our legs are sandwiched together;

Mine, yours, mine, yours

We let go of the hands near our chests

And you put yours through my shirt sleeve to rub my shoulder

I use mine to cup your jaw

While stroking your cheek with my thumb

You take your hand out from my sleeve

And go through the bottom of my shirt to hold me in the small of my back

I take my hand off your face

And let it feel down your side until I find your thigh to grip

This is the time, the moment,

I’m stuck in

Do you remember it too?

I’ve been given the impression that your memory is different

Yours consists of mechanical movements

Without any meaning attached

Your memory gaslights mine

And your touches plague it

Our memories can’t coexist

One is correct and one is wrong

If mine is correct, then you lied,

But if yours is correct, I made everything up

Either you’re a liar or I’m mad

I am not particularly drawn to either conclusion.