You see, I'm quite the forgetful catch.
It'll take me an hour to remember the chart of scientists that
they claim to have contributed to the understanding of my evolution,
oblivious to the fact that I have evolved in many ways when exposed to    
sound           touch           scent           taste           and           sight
It will take me the entire day to count the bobby pins I've lost, and the
pieces of paper I've magically vanished; maybe even a year of
long drunken laughs to memorize your birthday.
But it seems I've found an exception.

Your body is like a canvas:
entirely used to replicate sheet music in its originality
and intricate messages hidden behind staccatos and fermatas.
See, I've memorized the back of your head like a tune on the radio
replayed      over      and      over      and      over
­until it was the only melody I began to hear from morning till dusk
(with the occasional masterpieces that leaked its desires)
(and romantic words past my subconscious)
(and into my dreams)

I'm a forgetful catch, darling.

I'll forget the day
we first locked eyes, but
remember the hour you carved
h   o   l   e   s
into the bark-like exterior of my
heart and outlined your name
with a needle.

I'll forget what you had told me
you had for breakfast, but remember the
minute it took for you to fill my stomach with
b u t t e r f l i e s
that late autumn afternoon just by the baritone
of your laugh. Sad to say, I'll probably
even forget your birthday.

But I will always cherish that extra second of serenity
the last time you held me tight within your arms
[and fought the urge to let me go]
[but you did anyways]

gd