Always Forget the Details

I always remember the good times. I forget the fights, the moments of hurt, the ache. I remember the happy times and those rare, caught-in-the-moment times.

I remember those nights alone with you. 

I remember laying in your bed, just a mattress and boxspring with no frame, in your dark, crowded room. All we had on was the TV. You smelled like boy soap and pot. We would put on clothes with no underwear and get Jimmy John's at four in the morning. Drive to the gas station just to get Gatorade with the dog in the backseat, listening to Matchbox 20. I can still feel the chilly fall air on my face sometimes if I think about it hard enough. I can still hear the leaves crunch under my feet as I walk up your sidewalk. I can remember laying in bed with you. You were groggy, a half-smile on your handsome face. You held me tight and I wrapped my arms around your well-muscled torso. You kissed my forehead and I wondered if it was all real.

You will forget all of this.

You will forget every time I ran my fingers through your hair, every time I grazed the tips of my fingers on your skin. You will forget every kiss, every touch, every laugh we shared. You will forget every episode of our favorite TV show we always watched together.

I wanted so badly for you to be the real deal. I wanted so badly for those late nights to stretch into days and weeks and months and years. But what do they say? Life got in the way.

I miss every minute of it. I miss you. But I had to leave that town and all of its bad memories. Sometimes when I visit, I'll simply drive around the streets at night. Every time I stop at that intersection, I look to the right. Maybe, just maybe, I'll see that hopeful girl and that drunk boy, kissing goodbye for the very first time. 


I especially think of you when it rains. I remember my forehead pressed to the glass of a bus window, passing the building where you had class. The rain dripped off the windows like tears, and I shivered, not because of the cold.


I'm rambling. This has no ending, because it's not the end. Every day is a parade of memories of you. They become fuzzier everyday. But you know. You always forget the details.