I.

I’m beginning to forget

what it felt like to be near you

the voice you used when we were alone

the touch you gave when no one was looking

I only remember

the time I laughed for half an hour straight

and you had no idea why

but I forget

your face in that moment.

II.

and his reassurances that everything would be OK

the laugh we both share

and the way we rub our eyes

I’m beginning to forget

because he’s not the same anymore

I know nothing will be the same

and it will be OK

but he is not the man I remember

and he’s always the same man.

III.

When you walk away

I will push away the memories

of murmurs in the middle of the night

and the thrill of the rollercoaster

I want to forget

when you pulled me close to you in your sleep

I want to forget

brushing my hair from my face.

IV.

We forget that which we want

We remember what pains

Memory glides between tangible and intangible

and slips between the sheets

in the middle of the night

farther away than we ever wanted it to go