I try. I really do. Everyday I try to forget you. The way your hand once held mine, if only for a moment. The way you laughed at my stupid jokes as if they were the funniest things in the world. The way you touched my cheek to brush away a piece of hair. The way you walked away from me.

I try to forget how your eyes smiled when you spoke How you spun me in a circle as we danced, more like swayed, to the music. How you held me close as the song got slower. How we stepped on each others toes the whole time but I didn’t care because I was so beyond happy. How you let go as soon as the song was over. How my heart dipped.

I try to forget all the times it seemed like I was all you were looking at, when really you were looking past me. When you left me for her, even when you were never mine.

I try to forget you every day, but you make it so hard. You make it hard to forget your smile, your charm, and your awkward way of showing affection. You make it hard to forget that you will chose her over me every time. Even though she’s gone, she’s moved on. She’d broken your heart twice and moved onto another yet still you can’t let go of her.

I try to forget that to you, I’ll never be her. No matter how many times we were so close to being there, you always took a step back.

Then one day, I had hope, a very small bit of hope. The day we were told to kiss. Sure, they were all watching, but we’d done this before, it would be nothing, right? Nothing at all. But then, you kissed me first, and not just a regular kiss, like the ones before. No, your lips melted against mine, you kissed me as you once kissed her. It was small and short but it was filled with emotion, more emotion than it should have; it meant to me that there was hope.

So I can’t forget. I can’t forget you even if I know there will never be anything between us. I won’t get jealous when you stare at her. Or when you get a valentine, even if that girl is only a friend. Maybe I won’t be sad when you leave and you no longer are there to laugh at my jokes, or to brush my hair out of my face, or kiss me, even if it doesn’t mean anything.

But I’ll always remember you. I’ll remember how you took me home the day after he broke up with me. I’ll remember talking to you for hours on end, until the sun had long past set, until six hours had gone by and even then you didn’t want to leave. I’ll remember how happy that made me feel that you didn’t even realize the time passing, and how sad I was when you hardly spoke to me after that.

I’ll remember you, and I’ll think to my self, long after you have left; do you remember me?