Memories of that mirror.

Sometimes when I am listening to someone else's poems, I stumble over a line and after a blank moment, I remember. A memory of you and I rushes to the front of my mind. A faded memory that quickly turns into a memory of how you and I, left us behind. All of this just so that we'd end up in bed with another faded mirror memory.
In that last line, I pause and remember that night we slow danced in the darkness of your room. I remember leaving the party early to stand next to the door, while you rushed to turn on the Marvin Gaye song. You came back towards me, turned off the lights and grabbed me. Our steps weren't quite right for the dance, but I let that go, I let you lead and thought, please, make it work. All of this just so that we'd end up in bed with another faded mirror memory.
In that last line, I pause and remember the reflection of us brushing our teeth together at the exact same time. At the exact same time so I wouldn't have to be alone in the bathroom of your place. At the exact same time so I could peek at us in the mirror, while I pretend to care about the hygiene. I remember seeing how well our skins go together. I remember seeing how well our heights go together. I remember seeing how very well our images looked next to each other.All of this just so that we'd end up in bed with another faded mirror memory.
I remember timing the minutes I spent on my teeth, so you wouldn't think it was too little a time. I remember timing that moment wishing we would stand there together forever, creating the image of that couple living inside that mirror. I remember wishing I could peek at them, that perfect image of us, forever. And I would not have to imagine it again, because they'd be there inside the mirror, while I forgot what we looked like to eyes of the other. I could see it in the mirror every time. I would keep that couple inside the mirror now and every time. I remember them in that last line and I pause, and remember that wish;All of this just so that we'd end up in bed with another faded mirror memory.
I wish, still, that I could have kept them at least only there, inside that mirror. Then in that last line of someone else's poem I wouldn't have to stumble. I wouldn't have to pause and I wouldn't have to remember how you and I, let us, let them, let that mirror, go. All of this just so that we'd end up in bed with another faded mirror memory.