remembrance forget me. it's a chronic ache and our six year-old joke won't be able to support it. it's limp already. forget that you ever saw a haze whose glasses fogged under the fairy sun. swimming, begging to be thrown, begging to be drowned, still laughing when the fluid filled my nose and to all your questions, i only answered that the cat should be killed before it kills itself. forget the thin violet grassflower i wrapped for you in a school slip but your pocket rejected it when you danced. forget that your friend touched me somewhere, just before my big speech and you were worried i'd zone out during it. you've seen me zone out more than you've seen me eat. it's funny. i've seen you zone out only in front of me, and then joke about it. we were both aching people, aching for so long, but we were both thinking "your ache is bigger than mine" all along. i now look back and remember that i felt so weak i almost fainted, almost fell down the stairs. i remember i cried in the bathroom stall. i remember the chronic tiredness; was it only us who felt like that, or do all humans feel like that? forget that the whole school knew of our wild, sacred, open love. forget that the building was a witness, but remember that neither i nor you will ever be touching that concrete again. forget that you knew my heartbeat only through my fingers. forget that the garden will bury our footprints, and nobody will be able to see the quiet, languishing gods who used to walk upon that land. forget that i said i was cold; i should've known that you were too. forget that the only place we touched together was the garden, but remember that the garden too will forget us. remember that we are still tired and we have been tired for so long, that we can't even love anymore. #remembrance_r
