I remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".
He remembers the day he caught me "celebrating". My fingers weren't covered black with unwashable taint that always hid beneath me and cast a shadow on my party. I lifted my glass to myself as he waited from a distance. I ran in circles, a dog with a envious tail. He knew what I was up to as his narrow, storm-filled words fueled a fire as I told myself I could be happy forever. He broke the glass I had lifted on the floor, and he told me that under any circumstance that the celebration was over. He forgets to let go of my mind from time to time and tells, with a serpent's breathe, "You're mine".