Forget Me NotShe is the hardest thing I've been through in my life. I'm still young, but I feel old. I am raw and withered, from her.
I was seventeen, and she was the first skin I had touched. She was soft and rough, a dream and reality. I waited so long to have her, but she was never mine - she was never anybody's to have. I could have looked at her forever and she still would have been a blurry memory. She was mine for a year, and I have nothing left but fake flowers from her. I'm the only one who holds our memories.
I can't describe her looks, that I don't remember. Her voice is long gone. But I know what she is. She's time, speeding up so fast that when you're with her it's not even before you bl
Most of all, she's not yours to keep. You would do anything, trust me, just to exist around her - in the air, in her lungs, as a small particle just to hear her breathe. You would do anything just to make sure you'd be there, and be able to claim that you've always been there. But you can't be that person who follows her for the rest of time. You'll learn, she's never been comfortable anywhere, and especially - with you. And you can't touch her, you can't kiss her, you can't want her. She will turn everything upside down, so you are the persecutor, she is the victim. You were the one to torture her, blame her, and ask for everything she could possibly give. But all along, it really was her, who played your strings till they broke.
She was the one to give you an awakening and take it away before you could breathe again. She created your life, rudely, and without cause she snatched it up. And you'll never know if she was real to you, who were you with? She is your creator, she showed you who you truly are. She'll never let you forget that.
And as your catching your breath, she's twenty feet ahead walking into the sunset. You squint, and cry for her skin back against yours, but she's gone into the sun. Was she real? All you can remember is a blurry face against your lips, a muddled image of a hand in yours. Did you imagine her?
A year later you'll smell her on the subway. Starting you cry, you will search for her everywhere. You will be home late for dinner, and have to explain to your new person that you lost track of time. You will hold her inside, burning, bubbling, as your secret. It will be on the edge of your teeth, screaming to break out, and you'll force a smile. You'll laugh at dinner parties, and fake emotion when in bed with another - you'll never forget she touched you first.