I Remember Anyway

I keep trying to wipe the slate,

But my brain is a thrift store

that never throws anything away.

I find you in the weirdest aisles—

the smell of burnt toast,

the click of a turn signal,

That one blue hoodie in the laundry, I don't even own.

~~

My heart files petitions for amnesia,

stacks them neatly by the door,

But my mind keeps sneaking them back

into the drawers with the takeout menus

and old warranty papers.

~~

I don’t remember my locker combination from high school,

But I remember the exact way you said “fine,”

That time you weren’t,

How the word broke in the middle

like a plate in the sink.

~~

I remember the song that played

When you almost told me you were leaving

and then didn’t.

The radio still cuts to static there

even though I’m driving alone now.

~~

I’ve tried rewriting our story

with gentler endings,

But my mind projects the original cut

on the back of my eyelids at 3 o'clock in the morning.

No skip button, no credits.

~~

Maybe forgetting is a skill I never learned,

Or maybe remembering is the only way

My chest knows it survived.