Have I forgotten, I wonder… how to cry, how to miss my lover in the dead of night. I wonder if I have grown wise and forgotten the whys of that sinking feeling, that dull aching, that growing warmth at the back of my eye, which arrive before the streams.
Have I forgotten to feel the sudden panic that comes with a slow realisation – some one I once loved, is gone… never to be seen, heard, felt, smelt.
Have I forgotten how to recount and count incessantly – without embarrassment, without fear of being a fool, without pretending to be strong – all the moments of little laughters, little reliefs, little gratitudes, little irritations, the flooding love and the blinding rage.
Have I forgotten, the ways of forgetting.