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.
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