Microscope.

Memory is a godly thing,

a sea-like thing,

that brings you in

or 

spits you out

or 

takes you under,

or

drowns your sense

until you think

that moment he loved you

was the whole organism

on a cellular level,

and you look at it 

now and then

when all is quiet,

trying to name

and label the parts.

Trying to find yourself

in the building blocks

of something

long dead.