You belong to the ether,
to memories eclipsed in saudade.
I cannot recover the incline of our journey
or the bittersweet implications
of your infinite meanings.
We were coruscant in our brevity,
a glitch in a continuum without fault.
I do not seek you out,
your extravagance, your fishnet tidings.
Time has rendered me lenient
and all that we were
is now alien and diffuse.
Whenever I see a field of tulips
I think of you,
how wild, how cultivated you were
as I remake you again and again
with varying inflections.
A very quick write before bed!