The Memory That Was Me

My memory of you is forgetting you,

Piercing through the pliant,
 yet stubborn “us”.

It takes me where I want to be now, 

But romanticism doesn’t stop.

I reminisce the past,

Ponder the future wailing,

Only to realise —

The present you is primal you.
And that calms my heart,

While mourning the loss of you,
Ceaselessly —

Until I realise,  you were me all along.


                      - Nodame