Even now, I can walk along the path covered in Autumn leaves and feel your hand holding mine. I remember everything from the smell of your hair to the feel of the crook of your neck against my face. I remember the feeling of your skin against mine, the warmth it gave me. I remember the feeling of your hand in my hair, softly untangling it. I remember the way you laughed, and how when we laughed together we sounded like a pack of hyenas. I didn’t mind.
I remember the way you cupped my face and wiped away my tears with your shirtsleeve, promising me things would be okay. I wish I could believe you, but I remember too well. I remember the sound of my phone ringing that night. I remember how cold it was that morning. I remember the numberplate of the car in front of me in the traffic. I remember how late I was. I remember how I was too late. I remember the pain I felt when they didn’t let me into your room. I remember the sea of black I became a part of the week after.
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I remember the time we were sitting on the couch and we were laughing and we sounded like hyenas and I didn’t care and you told me I had a good memory and how I said you had a terrible memory and we laughed. I wish I didn’t have a good memory.
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I wish I could forget
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