Don’t forget her

Today, in one of those conversations that sometimes arise, without knowing how, you asked me if I had already forgotten it….

And no, in spite of all the advice, in spite of all the experiences you have told me, your own and others, of the ease of erasing the digital trace in which we are so immersed… I don’t know if I want to forget her… if I should …. if I really need it.

But I do know something else, and that is the cost to me of not having forgotten her….

Because I have been 346 days without her, her smell, her look, her gaze, her skin, in a brief moment, and most of those nights…insomnia realizes my desires and comes to remind me of her…

Because I have hundreds of cries that never came from my chest, shouting her name in a thousand corners of a city that I have only seen again in my dreams…

Because there were many poems that I got to write her, telling her how much I missed her, many more telling her how much I loved her and not few, confessing to me how much it hurt me, and all of them, each and every one of them, disappearing in that virtual world in which I got to express them…

Because there were thousands of hours doing things that someone would not have done with a healthy heart…

Because it emerged in hundreds of pages that I wrote, not always poems and almost always in the books that I got to read, in those that the protagonists… ate partridges.

Because I lived and loved in those dreams, even if later I suffered with the greatest of pains, because later I woke up and there I was not …..

Because time told me to try another skin, other lips, another taste of those that arise in the deepest desire … and because I never found it.

Because I lost count of the tears I shed when I woke up, when I remembered, when I closed my eyes, when I noticed that soft breeze that came to accompany us on our walks, the warmth of the sunrises we lived… I noticed his hand sliding down my face…

Because I thought I could never forget her, when everything around me was telling me to do it and I couldn’t…

Yes, I have to admit it, it was hard for me to believe that I could forget her…. or so I came to believe…

Because you asked me if I could ever forget her… forget her…

No, I didn’t forget her…

And you know why I know I can never forget her?

Because I was the luckiest man to be able to love her like I never thought I could love anyone…

Because no one else could ever love her like I did…

That’s why I don’t want to forget her…

Because to forget her would be to forget about me, about who I am, about what I am capable of.

Because to forget her would be…

Because I will still love her…

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*** Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) ***