I was not the kind of person who remembered details
Summer nothings, like who gave the first rose to whom
or Winter's trivia
did I kiss you or did you kiss me
and did the mistletoe have anything to do with it?

What I clearly recall
is your face the day you left me
I've filled pages with regret
over your hurts and my own

Turns out I'm the kind of person who starts to remember
once the roses and the kisses
are gone.