Sometimes I Forget
Sometimes I forget what it was like before you showed up into my life. It was plain and a bit boring at times, but it was simple. My life was simple without you — before you really. I forget what it’s like to lay in bed at night dreaming for the warmth of another body laying next to mine. Other times I forget what it’s like to be passed by at the grocery store, not one smile directed at me.
Sometimes I forget what it’s like now that you’re in my life. It’s complicated and messy now, as most people’s lives are, but now it’s a different kind of complicated. Now I am no longer ignored as I walk through the grocery store, you’re there to smile at me and wave. You lay next to me at night and you run your fingers through my hair. Sometimes I forget that everything that you’re doing is nothing but a lie.
Sometimes I forget that your touch is not real. It’s simply a figment of what I wished was so desperately true. Every touch, every laugh, every smile that you send in my direction. It’s not real and I know deep in my heart that it’s not. It’s okay though, because I forgive you.
Even if you sometimes forget.
