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All shades of passion and variations on regret

Do you remember the day we went to the park, where we sat on the swings and talked for four hours about nothing in particular?


What about the time I held you close to me, and we danced around in parking lots to indie folk music, staring deep into each others’ eyes?

Not really.

What about the time when we went to Cedar Point together and were stuck in lines for hours.  Don’t you remember the ugly couple in front of us, drunk beyond reason, practically having sex with each other?

No. I don’t remember any of that. I wasn’t there.

I remember when we played Apples to Apples with my friends, and you fit in well, making jokes about laughing at mine.  Don’t you remember the beautiful drawings I made for you?

No. What color were they?

All shades of passion and variations on regret.  Don’t you remember the time when we stopped talking to each other for a day or two, and then you cried all day, wishing I was back in your arms, and I could barely function at work, and nearly got fired?  Then we talked about it, and you said you finally realized how much you loved me.  Remember?

Not sure.

Remember when we made love all night, and fell asleep in each others’ arms; our bodies a sea of limbs?

God, no.

Remember by the moonlight when you said you would die if your father ever said those words again, and I said I would come to your funeral and out the jerk for hurting your mom?

What funerals? And what moon?

You don’t remember do you?


Not even the time we cried from the joy we felt from saying our vows together, and finally joining together in law and spirit?  Remember when we had our first child, born at St. Joe Hospital, and his hair was a bright red?

No, I don’t remember.

What about our first house, the white one with a red door, and our picket fence?


Do you remember when we died in each others’ arms, like we always said we would; our last thoughts on how much we loved each, and how happy we will be together in the next life?  Do you remember any of the things we said to each other on that last fateful day?

No, nothing at all.

Oh, I remember now.  I remember daydreaming in class about you.  I remember trying to talk to you, but you never heard my voice.  I remember buying you little cards and sticking them in your locker before school.  I remember never telling you all the wonderful things I felt about you.  Of course you don’t remember all my fantasies about us.  How could you remember me.  You never noticed me in the first place.


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