The first-person singular wraps around my brain like an ace bandage
Suffocating all thoughts not containing I, ME, MYSELF
Mummifying what was once a garden of Galapagos seals and the French subjunctive
Like a tight corset, starving my neurons of YOU, SHE, THEM.
Lost in this asexually reproducing reef
Of monochrome brain coral singing the same song over and over
I promise myself not to forget
The sight of YOU alone with your diamond earrings at the airport
The silence that echoed on the snowy mountainside
A manifesto protesting self-obsession.
One day I will call you by name.