memory

When I think that it's okay, I'm almost over you, I can cut ties and move on completely... right about then is when I remember. That day. That few-week oasis. Living in enchantment.

I think that you're a jerk. You broke my heart. You wouldn't even care. You're not right for me. You wouldn't be good for me, good to me. We're not into the same things. You party too much. You're an asshole. Wanted sex on the third date. Never apologized for anything.

Yes, all that is true. But the truth of that doesn't change the beauty of the time I spent with you. Because that sun-drenched day on the rocks by the sea, away from the world with only you - that will always be one of the best memories. One of the best days of my life. And that is what's heartbreaking about all this.

I panic at the thought of the memory fading with time. I want to keep it alive, put it somewhere safe where it will always stay as it is, bright, vivid, warm, sparkling. It's a place, a place that only existed for one glorious day. And now that I can't go back there, what do I do with the memory of that day? With the memory of you, who I barely knew?