12/21/20 3:42 AM

Everyone told me that one day I would forget.

But I spent 2,000 nights memorizing the lemon flavor of the Starburst I was chewing when you got in the shower, 

1,500 nights staring at the color of the white balloon I was holding when you walked to my apartment,

1,000 nights sitting at the second table on the left by the window when you ate breakfast, 

500 nights cursing that abrupt start to the McDonald’s ad that I was hearing on Spotify when you kissed me,

100 nights feeling the plush fabric of the red pajamas with the white polka dots against my skin when I was woken up by you, 

50 nights swirling around the cool, cheap, bitter black coffee that I was drinking when you passed me your phone.

I spent 20 nights searching for what you may have sounded like, 

10 nights reminding myself of what I think you might have tasted like, 

5 nights grasping for what I believe is my last image of you 

4 nights wondering where you are. 

I spent 3 nights thinking you sound like a McDonald’s ad, taste like a bitter lemon, look like a white dot against the black sky, feel like warm pajamas, and you’re right where I left you 

In all of the details 

I spent 2 nights memorizing the lemon flavor of the Starburst I was chewing 

Until 1 day I forgot how it felt to love you. 

Everyone told me that one day I would forget.