I keep thinking about
all the things I forgot.
Your phone number -
long deleted -
started with a 3.
Or was it a 6? Maybe 2.
The only thing I'm sure of
is it had seven digits
and made my heart race
when I saw it on my phone.
Your smell
and how it lingered
now escapes me.
It was unique and spicy.
Or was it sweet?
I keep thinking I've found it again
but end up second guessing myself.
If my eyes were closed
and you were standing
right in front of me,
I wouldn't even know.
Your smile
I can't quite picture.
I don't think you showed your teeth
unless you were really happy
or laughing.
But even in those cases,
I don't remember
what that looked like.
You probably had perfect teeth.
The dates
of all the events whose memories
used to stop my heart
are fading.
When I stop to think,
I can remember them,
but when those days pass
I'm always preoccupied
and forget to remember.
Your favorite color was black,
I'm sure.
I remember because
Your car was black.
Your hair was black.
The locked compartment of your heart
that I tried to open
for two long, painful years
was black.