Something Temporary

My ego will remember itself out there, I hate to say, and I will ask you if I’m still beautiful. (We’re not bringing mirrors, only words of reflection.) The going may be easy when we’ve disappeared into each other’s spirits, but some days if not most days, I will need reminders of where we’re walking, and why you love me, because I hit my head on my something temporary on our way out the door, and my brain rattles with past and future, refusing to sit still in your lap.