Dilemma

I hesitated,
for I was not sure
of our return,
together,
from this journey
across your skin.

Our lively whispers,
which had once blossomed
nights of sibilant brooks,
were spent,
sprouting abattoirs
where words bled memories dry.

The streets,
which had pursued us
till they got entangled
with the creases of our palms,
the facades,
which had spied upon us
as we kissed under the neon lights,
seemed hallucinations
of the fornicated flesh.

Sleep, which had once
slurred the distance
between our dreams
and had plaited our limbs,
lies undone.

Now on this trip
time had traveled on
and had left me
with a zipper,
that was stuck midway
of a long thread of breath.
I let go, for I knew
I had become
a fossilized memory
of your flesh.