Two promises

You told me you miss everything
And when I asked what everything was
You started a detailed description of the time we spent together, since second 1.
So I wonder if you would miss my laughter in your ear everytime you say something snarky or tell me one of your absurd stories.
 I wonder if you wish I could be there right now, the warmth of my breath drawing pictures of the despair of being away from your body. Your body, that body that you treat so often as a outdated tool, something that is broken beyond repair, and I feel guilty for not being able to fully understand your pain because when I look at your body all I can think about is how beautiful you are.
You told me you will never forget me, unless you get dementia
And I felt my heart race like a child in a bike, a little wobbly along the way.
I felt special for that moment. That moment of being the girl you never forgot. The one that got away. I wonder if you really will remember me, when you feel lonely and question your past decisions. I wonder if you will remember this text. I wonder if you already forgot how warm I feel when you're creating your own path inside me, sending me to the stars and bringing me hone by the wrist. I wonder if you still remember how my skin was your private ocean to navigate in, no harbor or nautic laws, endless exploration. I wonder if you can still hear the sound of my moans whispered between smiles and sharp breaths. I wonder if you still feel the water of the rivers I made myself and poured just for you. I wonder if you remember the taste of my tongue, the hunger of my lips, the pressure of my thighs.
And as I wonder, I realize that I will always remember and miss you.