Something Amiss

Do your lungs feel heavy,
weighed down with sand?
Has it slowed your breathing
nearly to a stop?
And your throat,
is it all cut up?
Those unkind grains of
salt or sand,
are they what has kept you from speaking? 

Take a close look at your hands
don’t you sense something foreign?
The creases in your palms
or the shapes of your fingernails,
doesn’t something seem 
…off?

Even your clothes; 
they don’t fit 
like they used to.
How could they, after all?
Your memory is hardly what it used to be.

From the start she had you pinned as the forgetful type.