You’ve changed

Your smile is reluctant
where it once was welcoming,
ready. 
Your eyes are cloudy
with a hint of grey;
gone is the warm clear gaze.

You have forgotten
what the promise of the moon feels like.
You are generally unkempt, uncaring.
Your skin is rough, callused,
brown from excessive melanin.
You think you might have fallen asleep
in the sand
on your afternoon stroll,
but the details are in disagreement with each other.
You are adamant that you gazed out
over the ocean stillness while
being sandblasted smooth by a fierce desert wind.
Never mind that you haven’t seen the sea in decades,
and it’s been raining soft and steady
for weeks on end.

There is a weak impression of the sun
somewhere overhead,
a dull burning echo of you,
a mere existence.