To remember.

Remember when we went ice skating around this time last year?
People were either whooshing past us, or
clinging onto the sides, like you?
It was the first time I could properly hold you in public.
You were scared of falling,
you vowed off skating fifteen minutes into the rink.
It was the only time when it was acceptable to hold you so close.

It's been close to a year.
We were over for close to a year.
You said you didn't love me nine months ago,
stopped picking up my calls, replying me seven months ago.
Stopped saying you love me, whatever that means, three months ago.
Became someone else, two months ago.

Well,
I collapsed crying on the floor of a cold shower nine months ago.
Stopped eating, started having nightmares of losing you seven months ago.
Started imagining scenarios of you coming back as a friend, whatever, three months.
Started gaining all the weight I lost, back from emotional eatings two months ago.
Stopped loving you, never.

I remember how your lips melt into mine.
I remember how it felt to hold you, the way you fit in my arms.
I remember your smell, your butterfly kisses that I don't understand,
I remember how your eyes look like in the dark.
I remember kissing you good night, a kiss to keep away the bad juju.
I remember loving you, I still remember loving you.