Our brain is engineered to store memory — be it a recollection of something we want to remember or not. For some, it's a blessing. For some, it's a curse. I'm caught in between. How many months has it been? How many relentless moons? How many arduous sunrise? Too many, yet will I be able to forget it? Do I want to?
The tram. The arc. The central square. The monument. The traffic light. The pedestrian lane. The water. The nervousness. The excitement. The uneasiness. Back to the traffic light. The pedestrian lane. The car. The backseat. The dog. The right side of your face. Your right jaw. Your face. Your eyes. Your smile. Your laugh. The walk. The dog. The poop. The laughter. The coffee. The stories. The teasing. The camera. The photos. The walk. More stories. The drive. More teasing. The flat. The books. The drive. The night. My name. The restaurant. The food. The wine. The music. Ohh the music. The photos. The past. The apologies. Your hands. My hands. Your lips. My hands. The future. Your lips. My hands. Your eyes. Ohh your eyes. The restaurant owner. The future. The door. And then your lips. My lips. Your hands. My hips. Your lips. My lips. Your hands. My face. The yellow light. The desire. The whisper. My lips. Your lips. Your hands. My hands. The car. My name. The flat. The gaze. Your lips. My lips. Your hands. The back of my neck. Your hands. My face. The breathing. The gasp. Then the urgency... The desire... The shoes. The sheets. The belt. The darkness. Your silhouette. The sculpture. Your whisper. The question. The answer. The connection. The exchange. The apex. More gasps. The sweat. The intimacy. The talk. The dream. The present. The drift off. The sunrise. The alarm. The black shirt. The shower. The coffee. Your lips. My forehead. Your lips. My lips. The car. The central square. The car door. Your voice. Your smile. The promise. Your laugh. The car. The central square. The monument. The arc. Your memories.
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