I forget your face sometimes,
And like a jigsaw puzzle made from the gauzy bits of memory I try to put you back together,
I remember your lips that pucker when your teeth gnaw on the end of your pen when bored, and then their mute flat line, the expression in your face uttering it’s last beat.

I think of your eyes, and the tumultuous way your pupils complete the cycle of an eye roll, first positioned at me then quickly lapping around the cerulean basin of your iris before returning to the center,
Your eyes creating moon phases, the waxing crescent of your angst, the full moon of your surprise, the waxing gibbous of your deceit.

I remember your nose, and how your nostrils flared subconsciously when you smiled, and how the left one gave a miniscule twitch when ever irritated.
It twitched a lot.

I remember your cheeks, how they were still soft and downy with boyhood, rosy with the last dregs of innocence still remaining in your cup.

I remember your whole face, suddenly when you drank the last bit of frothy deadening lull in your red cup that one night,
The thought of me receding from your mind as if your tiding thoughts were orchestrated with your moon phase eyes.

Your new moon eyes emitted no illumination,
Your nose twitched,
Your mouth suppressed the last pulses of a smile.

I forget your face sometimes,
And if I can summon the courage I try to put you back together from gossamer filmy bits of images,
I remember the eclipse of your moon phase eyes.