It would we best for us all
if i could just forget you.
All that's left to cloud my mind
are the final fragments
of our inharmonious union, you see.

Yet those fragments
seem to be the ones
that have lodged themselves
so deeply into my soft soul
that they cannot be removed
quite so painlessly.

No, forgetting is the hardest part
because the old door at our favorite dingy restaurant,
the one with the glowing sign out front
and the layer of dust across the bar
that somehow looks iridescent,
and magical,
and maybe even a little bit beautiful
under those huge yellow lights,
still screams your name
with every screech of the un-oiled hinges.

And the sweater that I wore
the very first time that I met you
still hangs at the front of my closet,
paying a solitary homage to
the very beginning of
one of many ends.

And the freckled spot
just under my ever-glistening eyes
and above my blushed cheeks
still stands as evidence
of that one irrevocably perfect afternoon
as we sat wrapped up in one another for hours,
making shapes out of the few wispy clouds that
idly slid above our heads in the faint ocean breeze
and sense out of one another's deepest foes.

No, you are not
so much of a burden to
my heart anymore.
Rather, you are simply
an unwanted installation.

How could I forget you
when you are absolutely
everywhere
to me?