One day, I won’t remember.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember how you always appear in my dreams when I sleep.
Then the morning after, I would get a “You think of me too much” smirk.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember how you can go on for hours telling stories, just because you hate dead air.
So, when I stop responding, you feel that I don’t seem to care.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember the songs you sang and played to me.
The way you sing made me feel loved and you–free.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember our debates about anything under the sun.
Deep inside I know you still cannot accept that since we were little, I have always won.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember our fascination with shoes and mind-boggling mystery movies.
Well it must be safe to say we live for these two things.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember your love for perfume and kids; for driving and spa; for ramen and samgyeupsal; for cooking and burgers; for Chris Brown and white shirts; for fairness and helping others; for dreams and for me(?).
“For me” I will always ask of thee.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember how our kisses felt magical and hugs kept me safe and contented.
What we had was something not typical.
The days with you truly made me elated.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember how you said you’re grateful for having me in your life and that through me you began to trust.
You said “I love you”. You knew it too fast.
But one day you felt this isn’t right.
The next day I found you with her by your side.

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember the pain you’ve put me through.
I started to wonder, were your feelings ever true?
Or is it a part of just making me a fool?

One day, I won’t remember.

I won’t remember you with a song.
I won’t remember to write you a poem.

One day
I’ll just keep you under my rib bone.