By Annie Pham
I donít remember you Ė
I seriously donít.
I canít remember the hundreds of thousands of times,
I watched as you scribbled away,
on the surface of the desk.
I canít recall the undeniably cute expression of concentration
displayed on your perfectly shaped face.
I donít remember, the way you turned to me, asking,
ďHowís it look?Ē
In that breath-snatching gorgeous voice of yours.
I canít recall adoring the sound of your voice,
While others teased you about it;
Even teachers amused at the fact of you going through puberty.
Nor do I remember the way I constantly gawked at you.
Memorizing the shape of your face,
the softness that mustíve coincided with the peachy texture of your skin,
the curve of your honey-glazed lips.
that easily brings Adonis to shame.
I donítÖI canít even recall being lost in the depths of your almond-shaped eyes,
those chestnut orbs,
so warm and brown.
No, I canít remember the restless nights, I spent staring up at the ceiling, wondering about
That I believe is hidden beneath those alluring orbs of yours.
Honestly, I donít even recall ever gossiping about you with my pals.
Nor believing that you are my one and only.
No, I canít remember calling myself, Mrs. ***** *********.
No, I donít remember you,
Not at all
Not one bit.