How troublesome it is trying to forget you.
Every twist, turn and shift
leads right back to your eyes,
which never seem to be looking back at mine.

I'm stuck in this pool of quicksand
filled to the rim with memories of seeing you,
feeling you, hearing you,
loving you.

In my head - like a flash of lighting or
Halley's Comet -
I beg and plead for a wish,
any wish in the moment to

guide me away
from the tormenting vivid doubts of my own mind
and lead me back into your arms.
But it never ends up that way;

what a troublesome act it is trying to forget you
when all I can see,
feel,
and hear

triggers the inner depths of my emotions;
the shallowness of my breaths;
my liquid stained eyes similar
to the stains of red and purple you once left on my neck,

and my gleaming pearly whites I flash for the cameras
who know nothing but my face -
contrary to the knowledge I have of you touch,
your stride, your lips on mine,
your scent hypnotic in such a troublesome way.

It truly is such a troublesome act trying to forget you,
when everything I've been left with
is sewn and threaded with reminders to
always remember.

- g.d.