I forgot what your face looked like when you were hurting,
or when I said something unintentionally funny, and you would shake your head while giggling to yourself.
I forgot your laugh,
how your eyes made small crinkles at the sides and how the light would dance in your eyes,
while they would brighten up the room.
I forgot the ease I felt whenever you looked at me,
how it seemed impossible not to smile back at you,
even if I felt furious.
I forgot how you made me feel,
that everything was going to be perfect in the imperfect way that is “us”.
I am sorry I forgot why we did not work out,
and considered yet again if we could work in some alternate universe.
I am sorry we both forget half of the past,
making us unable to recognize the present truth.