And months pass again and we dream.
And we don't even remember the other's voice, 'cause we try so hard to erase it all.
And all we have left is sensations.

her breath on your neck
the hand that wipes the tears from your cheek
the cigarette smell mixed with her perfume

Or  how her long hair would ****** you
and how any small part of her would grasp on to you
even though,
through words
she would say something completely different.

And months would pass again.
And when it is best for us,
Fate would bring us back to remind us of things that,
such fools,
we thought we forgot.