Not Us Anymore

Our minds are miraculous things.
Somewhere within them, small regions learn
to recognize and expect others —
the ones we love,
the one our heart keeps returning to.

I believe the brain, in its tenderness,
lowers its natural walls
for those the heart wishes to let in.
These quiet defenses ease,
so the lover can grow, attach, and take root.

And when enough time has passed,
the brain begins to blur the borders.
It no longer knows the difference
between its bond to a limb
and its bond to the lover
who has become part of the body’s story.
It forgets where its own flesh ends
and the other begins.

But there is a difference.
The lover can one day be gone —
leaving the brain stunned, searching for words,
unable to understand
how something once part of us
could simply stop being us anymore.