Forgetting was the worst part.

When the smiles all dimmed

And the faces all blurred,

And all I could remember was the sheer

Warmth

That I felt then

And haven't felt since.

Forgetting was guilt.

It was long nights of bruises

On my soul

That I made myself.

It was nights of "How could I forget them?"

And "Did I not love them enough?"

It was fights with myself,

Yet still forgetting anyways.

Forgetting was anger

At myself.

Anger for letting go of the only piece

That I had left.

The piece that I will never

Ever

Get back.

Forgetting was sad nights

With sadder tears;

It was the hollow in my chest becoming more empty,

Never to fill again.

Forgetting was losing them all over again.

It was their true death.

When they truly died.

It was the acceptance

That I wasn't ready to give

Just because

If I still had the memories,

If I hadn't forgot,

Than I hadn't completely lost them.

Forgetting was the worst part

Because it hurt the most.

3/26/16