It’s been thirteen months and I’ve forgotten your scent. I don’t remember the way it feels for your fingertips to brush against my bare skin. I can’t recall the spark that would reignite every time our lips came in contact. I can’t remember the way your tongue would taste in the early hours of the day. I don’t even remember what your voice sounded like whispering through the phone at 5am. But it’s been thirteen months, and I won’t dare forget the way it felt to watch you walk out of my life just as quickly and unexpectedly as you walked into it.

I had always figured that in a few years, today’s date would be tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. Now the only tattoos I have are the scars you left in the depths of my mind, and the memory of a summer I won’t forget.