You said you'll remember her but forget her face
because the blue of her eyes reminds you
of the girl who did everything for you
        but fight.
You said you wanted to forget
how her hair looked when she woke up next to you
as the sun creeped through the cracks in the make-shift blinds
you crafted together the night before.
You wanted your sanity so you strived to forget
the reoccurring image of her
dancing around the kitchen
         wearing only your plaid shirt.
You said you wanted to remember her name but forget her face
because the freckles speckled across her cheeks
created a path to the pattern of the little colored dots
       that decorated her body.
You didn't want to remember the soft sound of her voice
or the heat of her breath
as she whispered the secrets of her past into your ears.
You didn't want to forget that she existed
you just didn't want to remember the sight of her
trying to cry out the hurt that took over
       the night you said goodbye.


Two years and seven months later,
you held the door open for that blue eyed, freckled-faced girl.
A genuine smile formed across your mouth as I walked through the door frame.
A sincere thank you followed by your name escaped
my rosy pink lips that used to kiss you goodnight.
The smile disappeared from your face when you heard
the soft voice that once whispered secrets of the past into your ears
as the night turned to day.
You always said you wanted to remember me but forget my face.
Looks like you never did.