by Shawn Allen

If I forget about you then you would not exist.
I am the one who held you here as you prepared to leave.
I am the last one to see the man that you could be,
the last one standing against the rushing waters
and trying in vain to hold them at bay.

If I don’t tell your stories, they will die unknown.
I am the one who listened to you breathe at night,
I was right there and heard you whisper his name,
heard you talking to him from the depths of sleep;
and I, too, wished to hear his voice again.

If I don’t recall the touch of your hand,
then you never built this heart.
If I don’t remember your shape of your face,
then never did the sun shine.
I can’t forget the things we said, the days we spent,
the passion we played, and wasted, and lost.

If I forget the last time we kissed, then it never mattered.
I looked into your far-away eyes, and watched them clear
I am the last one to hear you say, “I love you.”
I stood in the rain as they drove you away
and tried, in vain, to recall our very first day.