It's crazy, I tell you.
One moment you are a faint memory, just a piece of my past.
I can't recall the little things you did for me.
I can't feel the butterflies you once gave me.
Then, at two AM, you grab me by my shirt and and throw me across the room and everything comes back.
The back stabs,
the kisses,
the lies,
the million love letters,
the times you said I was the problem, when really, I had done nothing wrong,
the time you kissed me goodbye, while your great-grandmother lay dead by your side.
All of it comes back. The good, the bad, the ugly.
I try to focus on the good. But, I am having a hard time remembering what was actually genuine.