1 day, I shall write a book of memories.
Have I forgotten?
The very first night we met at Takashimay, outside Chanel?
The very first meal you treated me a meal, to realise we both
dont eat taugay and hum with laksa?
On the very first of January that we got together?
We walked along, cabbed to RV's Boon Tong Kee,
had our second meal together, sat by the road side,
talking before I gotta cab home and you gotta head for Genting?
Have I really forgotten life, love and almost everyone?
Will I forget you ?
Every time I asked him :" Who are you , why am I here"
His lips go near and whisper to me, I feel safe
Yet the silence of me was there, when he called "dear"
Of his clenched eyes,save for the tearfulness,
He wonders, has she forgotten me?
He caressed me, with our breath twirling in the atmosphere,
He said in a small voice : " please dont forget me" ,
it brought me heart aches for reasons.
He put in efforts to repeat over and over again,
He never gave up even when he was so tired of it.
Im always afraid to sleep.
They dont understand the pain,
of trying so hard to remember and
to forget. They dont understand your pain
of reminders and heartaches.
Im scared, babyboy
In the nutshell:
Now even the most independent self is never a solitary creation;
there will always be someone to remind us that,
despite our most devious denials, our histories are entwined.