Most people recall a moment,
Or an incident.
Like the time she first looked into his eyes
And lost herself;
Or when he, with a trembling hand
Wiped a speck of coffee off her chin;
They bent over a sum in concentration,
Jerking up with a start and a flush
On feeling the soft brush
Of skin against skin.
With me memory plays no role,
For how can memory hold something
That has no form?
Yes, when I’m around you,
Colour, shape, texture, all disappear.
There is no motion, no time, or even space.
It's not as though the world is drained
Of it’s warmth
And reduced to a bleak nothingness;
It's as though all these things never existed.
But that does not bother me.
The only thing that matters
Is that you are here,
‘Here’ is where I happen to be.