I am enamored
With the idea
Of being in love

Not the kind of love
Where I say
I love you
And let you meet my family
Or maybe exactly that kind of love
A love like raindrops?
That, as fast as I run away from it
I cannot escape it

I want never ending night skies
But I’m obsessed with sunshine
Especially when it’s raining
Am I my own paradox of eternal delights?
If I am, I think I’m doing a good job of
Whatever this is, for once

I really really like holding on to the past
At this point, my wall is choking
On movie tickets and pictures
But I keep thumbtacks
By my bed anyway
Just in case I need to remember something new
That I didn’t forget in the short walk
From desk to window

It’s not being sentimental, I think
It’s being “sometimes I forget who I am so how do I know I won’t forget how happy feels or how my best friends laugh like sunshine?”

But let’s call it sentimental because
I have a real love-hate relationship with labels

I am the least organized person I know
But I’m constantly labeling people
It’s touch and go, this metaphorical game of tag
Friend, lover, enemy, acquaintance
These labels aren’t permanent
The fingerprints on my skin wash off like chalk in a rainstorm

And let me tell you
I am enamoured with rainstorms
Because when I don’t have an umbrella
They seem to feel a hell of a lot like love

First,
   you forgot me.
Later,
   you hurt me.
Now,
   you laugh about me.

But I forgive you.

I laugh with you
   now.
I will hurt you
   later.
I am going to forget you
   at last.

its the last walk through memory lane
i have memories of you, of us
but no matter how hard i try to stalk those memories back
my memory doesn't seem to last forever

It's strange, really,
What once was considered home
Is now just another memory.

I remember clearly,
The day my parents told me
We were leaving again.
I even remember the pasta I ate that night.
My appetite rapidly gone
After just a sentence of words.

I remember
Saying goodbye to my friends,
At the time you really think
That they were going to be forever with you.
In reality,
That's never really true.

I remember
Feeling devastated,
Hating the prospect of moving again
After only a couple of years.
Wondering,
Why we could never stay put.

Now I recall,
All these memories,
That time I left the U.S.,
That time I left South Korea,
Sitting in my new home.

It's strange,
Because I love my new home more than ever,
And I would never,
In a million years,
Change the past events that I hated at the time,
Because those changes lead me to an even better place.

Then why is it,
That every time I do leave,
I forget that things will be better.
I forget all the changes that
Make me, me,
and that make my life, my life.

I just remember,
Having to leave my friends,
The sadness,
The hatred,
And I remember,
Having to leave my house,
No longer my home.