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Forget It All
I write this in the hopes that one day
I will forget.
Forget the color of your eyes
and the feel of your hand in mine
and the scruff on your jaw
and the words that you wrote
and the words that you said
and the expression on your face
when you looked at me
and the songs that you played
and the songs that you sang
and the games that you played
with me
without me
and against me
and the tattoo on your arm
and the feel of your arm
as I clutched it
and the feel of your arms
around my waist
and the kisses you gave me
and the kisses you took from me
and the firsts and the lasts
and everything in between
and the longing
and the strangeness
and the perfect fit that I thought we were
and the speed with which you walk
and your voice when you talk
and how every time I think of you I think in
lines and stanzas and poems.
And it doesn’t make sense because I was never a poet before.
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This article has 2 comments.
The boy that ended up being my first kiss quite suddenly stopped talking to me entirely. I wrote this in the hopes I would get some closure, and now, more than a year later, I don't remember most of these sensations anyways. But I thought the poem turned out okay anyways.