Those memories were kept in spaces
in the back of minds that can no longer remember–
not amnesic, but rather, actively forgotten,
to numb pain that was associated with them.
She walked ahead of me, slightly,
always a few steps in front and never side by side.
Her hair smelled like sin and her smile,
like fire, melted me into something she,
and only she, could mold into what she wanted.
On a Thursday, she left me, with fake tears
in her eyes, a remorseful fake-out,
pretending that my pain was hers to bear.
I cried, but in the midst of the sobbing,
I realized she had driven all that way,
when a phone call would have sufficed.
–That made me smile, a little.
Now with my memories gone, I am refreshed,
a brand new, clean slate, and maybe this time,
I’ll find someone willing to walk alongside me.