I know that I should know better


but I've already told you that it's hard

memories cannot be plucked out
selectively, like rotten fruits,
slowly broken off
images in your mind cannot be ripped
into a million tiny pieces of
worthless blurry
photographs

feelings are not as fickle as
fair-weather friends, and though
the human will is strong,
the silent persistence of the heart
overthrows any reason
and in the end,
triumphs

and words
can be forgotten
like lazy summer days
you can barely recall
but
even after too much time has passed,
their tone
still lingers.