The movement of your lips when you smile curses my dreams, and
I beg to forget the wrinkles that formed around your eyes from years of laughing too hard.
If only I could find the words for what you smell like other than fire and spice,
then maybe I could forget you someday like how I've forgotten others.

Though you're not like others, I have hope the thought of you will drift away like the fading scent of summer.
While we had our winter fun, it's time for allergies and pollen to clear my sinuses of your scent.
I fear the day your memories will leave me, but inside I rejoice at the possibility of being free.