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I Forgot About You

I forgot about you. Finally.

I forgot about your crooked smile, your infectious laughter and how you always knew just what to say to make me laugh.

I forgot about how safe I felt when you held me, and how my head used to fit in the crook of your arm.

I forgot about the days we played like kids; when we threw sand at each other and got drenched in the spray from the water hose.

I forgot your love for food and how you always encouraged me to experiment, eating my disasters with gusto and praising me when I got it right.

I forgot the days at the go-kart arena, and the days at the beach, and the day when we took a walk at the conservation centre. I forgot that that was where we shared our first kiss.

I forgot our games of wit, when we challenged each other at solving puzzles, and created puns out of almost everything we said; I forgot how we made a game of writing backwards and how we got so good at it that it became our mode of communication, our little secret, our shared joke.

I forgot about the sex; the glorious sex. Yes, I forgot about it. I forgot how it made me feel – wanton, sexy, free. You always did know how to give good head sha.

I forgot how you always came to my defence when anyone tried to criticize me. It was reassuring to watch you in those moments; I knew you had my back. You said you’d always be in my corner but I forgot. Eventually.

I forgot how you shut me out when you lost your job; how you would go days without speaking to me.

I forgot how much I tried to give you joy, to give you hope, to find you peace in those troubled moments.

I forgot how you left my messages unread, my calls unanswered.

I forgot how your shadow stopped darkening my doorway.

I forgot how you refused to see me when I came to find you; you said you couldn’t pull yourself together and you weren’t up to seeing me. I forgot how it felt to tell the taxi to take me back to the airport – like someone had delivered a huge blow to my chest.

I forgot how I cried.

I forgot that I was sad.

I forgot how many times I picked up the phone to call you and didn’t.

I forgot how long it took me to pick up the pieces.

In the end, I met someone new. And I forgot about you…

MissO

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