What you'd do.

What you'd give.

To forget.

What you'd do to remove the ruined remains,

any traces, any memories left of him.

What you'd do to rid it all from you heart, mind, body and soul.

Those soft butterfly, eskimo kisses.

The pillow fights and cold ice cream.

Movies that came with cuddles under the blue, warm blanket.

Home cooked food that only ended up in a disaster if you were the one cooking.

Sitting on the counter top in his shirts that were sizes too big for you.

So oversized that they reached your knees, 

watching him flip pancakes and eggs.

 

What you'd give to forget the taste of his lips

and the feeling of home his arms never failed to provide.

Forget the way you could read him like an open book,

and yet, not understand a single thought running through his mind

when those same soft brown eyes turned cold and icy 6 months later.

The way it felt, running your fingers through his hair.

Forget the way warm, gentle voice.

The very same one that drove knives into your heart.

The very same one that made you wish you were dead.

 

Forget the laughter and joy that was soon followed by screaming and crashing of glass.

Forget how perfectly your hands fit into his large comforting ones.

The same ones that pushed you away, leaving you lost and empty.

What you'd give to forget the time he saved you from your very own nails that were digging so hard into your arms,

tears running down your sickly pale face.

And yet, 6 months later, tears still running,

you stand under the hot running water,

so hot your skin turned red, 

scrubbing and scratching and clawing,

so hard that you skin turned raw and started to split.

 

Blood, bright red blood, mixed with the crystal clear waters,

as it ran down the drain, 

all in attempts to remove any traces left of him on your body.

Forget how he whispered sweet soothing words that turned into cruel hissing poison.

Oh all the things you'd give the start over, to forget, to be new, 

Forget, forget, forget.