Dimenticare

In that instant, something in me knew that this would be the last time. I didn't know how, but I knew it.
It caught me off-guard; things were just fine, so why this sudden feeling of desperation to hold onto every second?
"Remember me," the moment seemed to say. "Remember every last tingling sensation..."
I tried.
But I can't.
Not anymore.

Almost everything is gone now, and when I try to relive the memories, they are contrived, artificial, lifeless. I can barely remember what it was like, hardly grasp the notion, and I find myself wondering if it was even real. Warm familiarity has been replaced with cold silence, and where there was once a close embrace, there is only the chasm of an open wound still learning to heal.

But the pain is numbing,
and the wound is
healing.