crystallized in formless

it is a distinct memory
a sharply contrasted image
of a person I once was

the strange joy of driving a forest road at dusk, winding swiftly between trees on a empty road.
you don’t say anything, and neither do I,
we are waiting for the sky to fade from purple to black, for the moon to slowly rise above the trees.
they call it the redwood curtain.
it is heavy and dense, often feeling endless.

when it ends there is always fresh air, as you have finally made it the ocean, almost.
always covered in fog that is comforting, almost like a blanket.

We’d done the drive together so many times yet the moment you see the water is always the same.
A childlike excitement
we were listening to the popular indie music of 10 years ago
turned up and the windows down, hand out feeling the air.
“welcome home, Sarah”

soon after these trips we fell apart,
I fell apart
into thousands of individual tears
always met with blank stares

I always wonder if you remember me when I was bright and shiny, running laughing into the ocean or when I was dark and breaking slowly

but more likely you don’t remember me at all