My eyes were the first to forget the face I used to search for in all the crowded places, and I can no longer recall your voice, the one that made me shiver with a bittersweet ache for more. But you see, the thing is, I felt you way before I met you, and I just don’t know how to stop. I can’t take you with me, but I just don’t want to leave you behind.
I want to remember your lips, how they felt beneath my fingers, and how sacred it was for me to taste them. I refuse to stop craving your touch and its inerasable tingle on the ashen surface of my skin and every part of me you have ever decided to bless. I still need to imagine your fingertips trailing the curve of my spine while you share with me things you never told another living soul.
But, the memory of you is slowly fading, and I can feel myself forgetting a little at a time. I don’t want to forget. I want the sorrows that come from bringing you back.