I met you at
fifteen and at sixteen, I fell in love with you. At seventeen,
when my grandmother took her last breath on the face of the
earth, you cried with me at the foot of the gray stone. When you
moved away at eighteen, we promised each other with a ring that
we'd never forget the love between us, but at nineteen when I
called you, it went to voicemail and I felt the earth shatter all
those miles away. At twenty, you had forgotten my face and
I'd remembered yours without fail. I realized at twenty-one
that I had lost you and at twenty-two, I saw the love in your
eyes as you used them to look at someone else. When I found him
at twenty-three, I thought he'd erase you from by memory but
sitting here at twenty-four, I know that it will never
happen.
