Saturday, 5 May 2012

I won't forget.

I remember.

I remember the first day we met.
I was intimidated by you. You didn't seem very friendly at the time.
But then again, I remember the day we really met. I spilled my woes, and you spilled yours. And they took time.

I remember the night I gave you your improvised birthday gift.

I remember how you gave me your first gift, that now stares at me from my mirror frame every morning, reminding me of magnets and compasses and how they react when they're around each other.

I remember how we comfortably moved into each others lives, and then drowned in them.

I remember the night I semi skipped like a sheep on a Rage Against The Machine cover in the middle of an abandoned street.

I remember you saying how my dog was "Alright, as far as dogs go", and letting it slide.

I remember the many, many bottles of wine. But specifically how I was never drunk on them, but on something else.

I remember how you defended my dental structure one night, by refusing to tell me of the threats spoken against me by short drunken wenches with cruel tongues.

I remember how you straight out told a stranger you loved me.

I remember the book you gave me. And how I'm afraid to finish it.

I remember the book I gave you. And how I'm afraid you'll forget it.

I remember more than one movie a night.
And I definitely remember watching the first 10 minutes of the wrong movie at the cinema.

I remember being shooed out of bars because we wouldn't leave.

I remember our songs. And what they mean. And although they hurt to listen to sometimes, they remind me of beautiful things that I don't want to give up.

I remember our long talks in empty spaces with empty cars that lasted till the light signaled that it was time to (perhaps) go home.

I remember how you once told me you fantasise about my eyes, and I always remember yours.

I remember your scent, and how it would envelope me as I drifted to sleep, and how it translated into comfort.

I remember sitting doing crosswords and watching movies, and how that was more than enough. 

I remember how you would sit across me for hours on end while I worked, in silence, just so you could be there. And I remember how thankful I was for that.

I remember the night I lost one of my favourite lighters, and how I caught you googling a replacement.

I remember the timbre in your voice over the phone the day that was our last.

I remember the way we think things at the same time, in the same way.

I remember how you passed by just to say hello, but ended up staying.

I remember how you kept my cranes, and how much that meant to me, because they mean so much to me.

I remember how you made me feel. Happy.

I remember all the words felt, not necessarily said.

I remember always thinking I was crazy, and you assuring me I was not.

I remember us not needing to talk to know, and to be content.
And yet how it sucked to be us.

I remember how we never really got that chance..

I remember our many farewells.
And then I remember my last. And sometimes I wish I didn't.

I remember all these things and more. I fold them delicately and place them into a beautiful silver box, one after the other, and close the lid, and turn the key to lock them safe, and place them near my heart. Far enough to let me go, but close enough to keep it beating and warm.
I treasure them.

I remember all these things.
And I won't forget.

I won't forget.