How long does it take to forget someone? To forget their eyes, and the way they used to look at you. To forget their lips, and the way they were so soft when they kissed you. To forget their smile, their funny faces, the lines of their features that you traced with your fingers so many times. To forget their voice that you loved so much to hear, and all the sweet things they once told you. To forget how it was to be embraced by them and the way their warmth felt like home. To forget the touch of their skin, to forget their scent, to forget the way you felt at peace for just being beside them. Or... perhaps we don't. Perhaps we can't really forget them, not entirely. Perhaps we only get used to things. To their absence, to those random thoughts about our moments together, to the new life without them. Perhaps we believe that adapting is somehow forgetting. And that one day they'll become like those scars we bring along from childhood: the memory of how we got them are not so vivid anymore, but they're a part of us that will stay forever.


She could see you beyond your mask.
She could see you slowly, while everyone else always saw you too fast.
She helped you to see life in a different way.
She helped you to believe that love could be worth it.
She didn't mask her flaws, but she accepted yours.
She liked to wear your geek t-shirts, even though she had nicer ones.
She had the sexual appetite that all the guys wanted to find in a girl.
She had a taste in music that matched yours.
She used to kiss your forehead tenderly, but also take your breath away when she wanted to.
She used to watch you sleep and give you love when you woke up.
She used to run her fingers through your hair.
She used to steal kisses from you, 'cause the ones you would give freely weren't enough for her.
She used to cook nice things for you, but also be happy for eating pizza for a week.
She used to hug you from behind in the kitchen and stay there attached when you decided to cook.
She used to make you laugh, but filled a whole room with hers when you were being the funny one.
She used to squeeze in bed just to give you more space.
She used to sleep soundly only after she knew you were safe at home.
She used to whispered in your ear.
She used to squeeze your ass from time to time just to see the look on your face.
She got along well with your family and friends.
She was your comfort on hard days.
She could calm you with a hug or make you forget the problems just for laying beside her.
She was your partner and best friend.
She showed you that your world became better since she become part of it.
She showed you that you could live something real.
She made you feel special and loved in a way no one else had been able to.
She gave herself, body and soul, to you.
She was the woman of your life.


I miss you. Every fucking single day. Time passes by, but nothing seems to change. You're still my first thought when I wake up in the morning, and the last one before I fall asleep at night. And I hate myself for that. I hate myself for thinking about you and missing you, when I shouldn't. After everything that happened, I just wish I could forget you.

But it's like if you're impregnated under my skin and no matter how hard I wash it and scrub it, it just doesn't go away.

Sometimes I have the bad luck of encountering someone wearing your cologne on the street, when entering a store or during my commute to work. It's sudden, like if you had just passed by me. And it's awful, 'cause a simple smell can bring everything up and hurts a fucking lot. After all, you can't put your arms around a scent, you can't touch a memory.


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