I remember what it was like to feel;
to swallow, to heave.
I remember the sensation of sensation,
feeling satisfied at losing heart
because I was losing something,
because I was feeling something.

I remember the small-city-lit walls;
the orange glow igniting the dark black sky;
broken only by dancing glittered flecks.
The smoldering moon lighting my way.
I remember the wet grass against the soles of my feet,
laughing about nothing; running from nothing.