I think I could remember your love in a thousand different ways. I always start with remembering you as pain. I always have that initial drop-gut feeling, where I remember sobbing into pillow sheets, sobbing into your old t-shirts, sobbing into the phone.
But after? I remember our love in light. I remember guilty teasing and lips that brushed and your hand in mine. I remember our love in the steady beat of your heart under my ear. Your shampoo smell in my clothes. I think the crinkles you get by your eyes when you smile are imprinted into the back of my brain. I remember our love as heat, as skimming fingertips and whispering “I love you"s into your throat and your palm and your mouth. I remember our love like as if it was tattooed into my skin.
I hope you remember our love in light. I hope you don’t remember me in drunken voicemails and angry words thrown at closed doors or in the taste of another girl’s mouth. I hope you remember me in light the way I remember you in sunshine. I know that I loved you with a fire in my heart that needed to announce its love to every inch of your skin, but maybe you’ve always been burned out.
You told me you’d remember us in all our best parts, and then you forgot to remember.
from acting to activism. “I’m someone who can write about [issues] and make people aware, but I’m not distributing vaccines; I’m not organizing transportation; I can’t make fortified milk for infants who are malnourished; I can’t build schools and find jobs and build training systems; I’m not a chemist; I’m not an engineer; I’m not a politician - I’m just in a position where people, some people, a few people, will read what I’ve got to say.”