I’m afraid because I’m
thinking about the time
that we made cupcakes together,
but that’s not the scary part.
In one month,
or in 893 days,
or in a year,
or in any amount of time in between,
I’m going to forget that we ever baked together.
And I won’t even notice that the thought of
one of my happiest days escaped.
Nearly every memory of when you loved me
is eventually going to slip out of my brain,
without my permission.
I promised you that I wouldn’t forget you,
But I don’t know if it’s avoidable anymore.
I’m terrified.
r.m.
