I already know that we are going to pretend that the other has never existed. I know it from the way you start replacing your promises to return with drunk kisses on my cheek. Bad choices we don’t mean are easier to forget than words. I know it from how the pain dulls. An old echo dying, killing itself over and over again every time you say my name like there is still love attached to it. I can already tell we won’t hate each other– we’ll just forget. You will look back and find that the last time we were happy, my hair was still black and everything afterwards will just blur in the peroxide. I will think of you and wonder if your birthday falls on the 4th or 14th and why that still matters; it will feel like nothing when I realize it doesn’t. Some people talk about how it hurts to remember. I wish I could tell them it feels like nothing when you forget.
— I don’t know if forgetting is a good thing