Amnesia

I’m starting to accept the fact that you’ve forgotten about me.
 You’ve forgotten my birthday and my favorite color and the book that I told you all about because it made me think of you.
You’ve forgotten the moments we had- the late nights and the early mornings, the coffee and the champagne, the smiles I put on your face and the tears I wiped off your cheek.
You’ve forgotten how it felt to love me, and soon you’ll forget that you ever did, and I can pretend that knowing that doesn’t bother me anymore.

But I can’t forget the way your eyes change color when the sun hits them perfectly.
I can’t forget how your lips curve when you smile, or how your eyes sparkle even when you cry.
 I can’t forget the way you light up when you talk about the things that you love, and deep down I know that I would sit and listen to you talk about them for the rest of my life if it meant I could hear your voice just one more time.
Because I see your face in the beams of sunlight as they bounce off the water of the pond we used to sit by, and your laugh echoes in the background of my favorite songs that I can hardly listen to anymore.
 And I can’t walk inside the restaurant where I met you all those years ago without crying like a little kid, and every time I hear your name my heart shatters another time because I know I’ll never say it to you again.
I can’t forget the high I got just from feeling your touch, or the low I’ve fallen to now that it’s gone, and I can’t forget that I have to miss it for the rest of my life.
I can’t forget how it felt to love you, and that’s because I never really stopped.