after Jacob Collier

you told me there’s a patch of sunlight in your room
where I held you for a moment. 

you can see it so clearly. 
tell me, what moment was it?
the day I folded your laundry that littered the floor? or
right before my harley davidson boot fell apart at the soles? or
after we wandered the woods and promised one another we would
let it flow?

or is this patch of sunlight you speak of, just
every part of our love reflected off your windows
onto the carpet of your room
where I held you
for a moment?