I thought about you today,
your eyes, and the way you smile,
I thought as I strolled along in the park alone,
the memories of you slowly fading in my mind to nothingness,
I can’t recall The color or shape of your eyes,
I think they were hazel or maybe light speckled brown?
Perhaps you wore glasses? Or was that someone else?
I blink and look up to a cloudless sky,
Hearing the lakeside birds and whoosh of the water currents hitting the bank,
I can’t even recall the variations in your tone,
Or the way you sound anymore.
Was your voice deep like a rich baritone sound?
Or was maybe it was more pure song,
I really don’t remember anymore.
I touch my hands together, picking at my nails,
Your hands, they had ten fingers to them but I can’t remember the way they felt interlaced with mine,
if they were soft, or callused, or something in between,
I know you must have touched me a thousand times,
But even when I’m trying so hard to recall,
I can’t remember.
Touching my finger to my lip,
I press my lips into a thin line,
were your lips soft as snow, or hard as ice?
Did you kiss like a frog or kiss like a prince?
How tall were you?
Were you stout or boney?
Did you walk funny? No, no you didn’t have a limp, I would’ve remembered something like that. Maybe.
I question that every time I look back,
Did I make you up?
the words, gestures, glances, kisses, calls, and texts? Was it real?
were you real?
I can’t remember and my mind can’t recreate you anymore,
You’ve become lost within my head,
a shadow, a ghost, imaginary,
Maybe it’s for the better.
Or maybe I”m going insane,
but perhaps, the pain of you leaving is no longer,
or it was too grand I’m refusing to remember.
is it all fading? OR is it just burying itself deep within my mind?
Maybe, now what you were, who you were, why you were, how you were, where you were,
Is ceasing to exist for me,
into the black void,
So next time I see you,
I’ll ask who are you?
And you’ll blink, dumbfounded and whisper “It’s me”
But I’ll shrug, and walk away.
Or I will blink and shudder,
as a thousand memories come roaring through and I”ll whisper “It’s you”
and you’ll look wide-eyed “It’s me” in a low echoed whisper.