I remember your favorite color,
Your middle name, and the brand of deodorant you wear.
I remember the jokes you told,
The songs we sang,
And the times you insisted on leading when we danced.
I remember every time I cried in front of you;
Every awkward moment,
Every argument, and every apology.
I remember when you first asked if you could kiss me;
How long we waited,
And how perfect it felt when our lips finally met.
I remember long nights in the hammock garden.
Refusing to go inside despite the cold,
Because we didn't want to let go of each other.
I remember the first night I slept in your bed.
And the first night you slept in mine.
(Our roommates made fun of us for weeks)
(You left your glasses by my window)
I remember walking up to the top of the hill.
It was too dark to see you but I didn't mind.
You held my hand the whole way.
If I can remember all of these things, these small moments in time's great expanse,
Why can't I remember starting to fall in love with you?
And why can't I remember when you stopped falling in love with me?