Memories of You

By Eric Y. Theriault

Through the years,
the memories have faded;
And though most memories alive
appear to be jopyous--
I have very few of you.

A brand new rose
stood by the faded
the wilted roses of the weeks before,
or shall I state weekly?
Do you remember them?
The memories remains
As I the familar customer was asked
"Not that it is for mew to know,
But what if you skipped a week?"
What would happen if I did?
Would you have noticed?
And what prompted her to ask?
Curiousity I guess,
Or did she see a heart that was hurting?
That I shall never know.

Almost five years later,
why can I not remember
anything nice about you?
Why does every thought start
to hurt again,
as they day it happened?

But I no longer dwell of you,
and memories that approach,
I attempt to quickly forget.
Just as I was forgotten by you--
Just as you remember me not
Who am I anyway?
Just another person you hurt.