I hope

I always remember

 

As I sit on the bathroom counter, footsteps falling underneath the floor. Leaning my elbows on my crossing calves and trying to not look my reflection in the eye. Last night's hair, today's make up. I don't recognize myself anymore. Feeling their nighttime hands still, moving, rubbing my skin. 

 

I hope

I always remember

 

There are parts of you that you want to forget

But me? I feel memories slither around my fingers like wet hair that I can't hold and I wrap them tighter until I don't know the past from the present

 

I hope

I always remember

 

I hope I remember

 

I hope I remember the sudden jolt of pain that made me cry

 

I hope I remember the long nights of cuddling with my secret and 

Wanting that bedroom door to open

Wanting someone to stand in that doorway

Wanting that silhouette to say

I see you

 

I hope

I always remember

 

I don't, really, I want to forget. I want to forget the years after, too, when fear was an animal in my head and I didn't know how to tell the truth. I want to forget what it feels like to float out of my body and look down at blonde hair that doesn't belong to me, not really. 

 

I hope

I always remember

 

Pain will make you stronger but I don't know how. I read words from years ago and knife wounds reopen like spring flowers blooming. They think that old words are the same as new me, but new words speak seeing memories through apathetic film. 

 

I hope

I always remember

 

I lean closer and my breath fogs the mirror. 

 

I hope

I always remember

 

How do I tell them that I sat in the middle of the street and hoped a car would come?

 

I hope

I always remember

 

How do I take this breath when he took my breath so long ago?

 

I hope

I always remember

 

I am not who I was and I am not who I will be but I don't know who I am

 

I hope

I always remember

 

Finger trailing through the steam of my breath

I see my eyes

 

I hope

I always remember

 

But really

I'm trying to forget