to forget is to remember
to forget is to remember
I've invited my dates to the bar where we first met. I've had at least 10 first dates at that place.
I've walked down that street many many times. It's where we went into a shop and you bought me cookies and hugged me and we went to your place. I've walked there during day time, I've walked there in the evenings, I've walked there with friends.
I've kissed on that beach. I've held hands with my dates. I don't remember how many dates I've had there.
I've been to the spot where we shared a cigarettes at night. I've been there afterwards - at night, in the early morning, had an ice-cream there.
I've walked all routes I'd walked with you. I've walked them alone and I've walked with other people. And I kissed them and I had sex with them.
And I've walked all the streets that we'd walked together and I thought if I only did it enough times, I'd forget what happened here, with you, because of you. I'd forget I ever met you, I'd forget you exist.
I've met people from your country and I made love to them, to those who looked like you, who spoke like you.
And sometime it felt like it'd worked, I'd be free of the memories of you. And here I am in the middle of the night remembering all of it, like it happened yesterday. Where do I put all those memories now? You don't see me, and I see you in all the details.