They say Water has memory,

So I let her wrap around me,

The sedative weight drenching.

She knows your kiss, maybe,

Remembers those tears,

The eclipsed connection

shared between all those years.

Water renews, cleanses

Me with immortal purity,

But the ashes linger like

lethal reminders to the end.

I wonder if ashes hold memories the same,

And if I breathe them in, maybe you’ll stay—

Maybe,

But it will never be the same.

Return, May, please.

Show up in the echoes

of tomorrow’s rain and seas.

We’ll never get to be

Each other’s firsts.

Yet somehow,

You’ll always be

My Last.