I Remember.

I remember.
I remember how you bit on the insides of your lips, as they pursed inside, whenever you felt anxious.
I remember how it seemed like your lips were receding coyly away from mine, into the shelter of your mouth, as if to tease me.

I remember.
I remember the exact composition of your skin’s colour. The gratifying bronze glow of your bare skin, under the consigning sun.
I remember how that hypnotising bronze glow left me astounded. Awestruck.

I remember.
I remember how your eyes were pushed into slim crescents by your gorgeous smiles.
I remember how they looked like crescent moons, barely containing the stifled glow that illuminated dark, dusty corners in me that I never knew existed.

I remember these little things, these little pieces that seem so distant, and yet, cut and dig into my heart. These little shards and broken pieces of something once so beautiful that I cradle in my hands, never accepting to let go, they dig deep and leave gashes on this soul.
I remember, with slight smiles and sad eyes, and flip through these memories like photographs of lost beloveds.
I remember, constantly.
And I wonder, every time, if you do, too.

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