I wonder if you remember my name,
my favorite color, my favorite foods,
my favorite song.
Do you recall the plans we made?
The talks about the house we would buy,
and the porch we would sit upon
on warm summer nights,
watching the fireflies perform
and the scent of honeysuckle
wafting on warm lingering breezes
while we shared a tall glass of lemonade.
Do you remember our six month anniversary?
You thought it was silly
but bought me flowers anyway
and pretended to be upset
when you realized I hadn’t bought you any.
Remember how you laughed later that day
when I gave you a homemade anniversary card?
I went back to my kindergarten-artist days
and broke out the construction paper,
crayons, glue and glitter.
I even misspelled a few words
just for poops and giggles.
I remember that you kept that silly thing
tucked into the frame of the mirror on your dresser.
You had a picture of us tucked into that frame, too.
I remember the day you said goodbye.
That’s the story I tell people, anyway.
We ended on quiet, friendly terms.
The truth is, you just went away.
You gave no explanation.
I was left with hundreds of promises
you made to my heart,
that would never be fulfilled.
I wonder if you ever felt guilt or shame about that?
I guess it doesn’t matter.
You left me with only one choice:
To remember the good times,
and to look forward to the future.