Philosopagus Seven 006

1) The red garland. I always handed you the tape backward. Always got cold putting the candy canes outside. Asked math questions late at night.
2) The garland: dust. The candy canes: melted. The questions: unheard. Locked in the past. Memories no longer shared.
3) My mind, alone, naked. Only half without yours. Lost. Bisected and bleeding on display.
4) Time cannot heal a halved mind’s memories, only change them. Turn them into lies.
5) With time you are lost, a creation of my mind, an imagination. How to preserve you? I slow down and see you still there, next to me.
6) And I panic. More of you, I need more. Can I delay time’s decay of our past? Until I am no longer a mind myself?
7) Memories. If I can’t preserve you, can I preserve us, in my mind? It’s too late. It’s too late. I need more time. I can never catch up.