It's not even been two hours

But I already can't remember

The exact color of your eyes

And the way that they studied

The bridge of my nose, my wine colored lips,

Or the freckles that smother my cheeks.

And it hasn't even been two hours

But the once familiar scent,

Of your shirt against my skin,

Is now nowhere to be found.

No matter how hard I try,

The heavy smell is erased from my memory.

It's been almost two hours,

But the tingle that stained my lips

From our last kiss, is now long faded

The curve of your hand against

The small of my back,

Is now a small, small, feeling in my mind.

It's now been two hours,

And the way it felt to be yours

Is something I thought I'd never forget.

But the feeling is now gone,

And it is now my own happiness,

That I'll never let myself neglect.