I Don't Want to Forget Anything to Forget

My boyfriend broke up with me recently. The happy memories would randomly flood into my mind at the most inconvenient moments. I thought about how I would love to just put them in a jar.

It was after the movie,

We couldn't find your car.

We wondered around

In the darkness,

Searching for the same things,

Laughing and holding

Hands.

It was a clear night,

With the star's

Luminosity present.

I take that moment

And I put it in a jar,

With the wine corks,

The concert tickets,

The jokes, stories,

Dances and drives.

Along with our first kiss

And the few thousand that followed.

All the hugs,

They go inside too.

The garage door opener,

The foreign films,

All the toasts,

And the toast.

Inside they go.

The world cup

And the coffee cups.

The cashmere blanket

And the fourth of July,

Goodbye, goodbye.

A couple of dozen pizzas,

A castle made of beer,

The embodiment of eighty's music,

I stuff into the jar,

Stuff and stuff.

My leather skirt,

My favorite place.

Your Patagonia teeshirts 

Your white plates,

Your white car,

Your white mugs,

Your white life.

Still more,

The moment I sat on your lap

And told you I love you,

And all the times that followed.

Along with our secret agent names,

Our handshake, in they go.

It's all been cataloged,

Folded, packed and stored,

Into the jar and

Out of my heart.

Now we can live

Like strangers live.

Separate and parallel.

You will eat dinner,

I will eat dinner.

You will go to the store,

And I will not know about it.

You will buy your groceries,

Bring them home

And unpack them.

In the fridge, in the pantry,

In they go.

On we go.

On and on, forward.

Like it never happened.