Pens and Pages

How nonchalantly we made promises of a love eternal And in the quest for eternity We forgot how to not forget each other, I had forgotten how it felt like To be in his presence, How he would talk of the faraway stars As we sit under the moonlit sky... I had forgotten his perfume And he had forgotten How my cheeks turn red Every time I caught a glance of him. In the quest for eternity I wrote a million poems, Letters I would not share... We had forgotten how it felt like To live in the "reality" people created. We left things unsaid Like we see in the movies written on ideas created by Shakespeare... I would cut my wrists, Drink wine to remember And recite Bukowski and Plath In the quest for the eternity they derived... But most of the pages life did unfold, Were nothing like the books he read, Or the poems I wrote... Life moved on, One memory after another... We kept forgetting Each moment we thought we'd cherish. Yesterday, I saw him again His picture on my ...

The hopeful, loyal girl Waited as she promised She would. He has forgotten her face now. She doesn't remember anything More than his name, anyway. There were days when they both Wailed in the pain of separation. "I'll come back," he said. "I'll wait". Promises are mere words. Words were forgotten. "He is probably dead by now," She declares, Clutching the collar of her cane. They are no longer young. She doesn't remember much Of even the previous day, anyway. She chants his name As she claims her deathbed. She remembers how he used to smell. "Probably he just passed by," she sighs at the familiar smell. Traces of tears on her wrinkled face. How would he know? He has forgotten her face. She is dead now. Did it matter, anyway?