You will forget the way the friction burn felt at four years old, forearm dragging along rug

You will remember it all at once when people change their Twitter bios to the same thing at once

You will forget her resting expression because you never knew her well enough

You will forget that you thought about death maybe too much in the past but now never

You will forget birthday cakes, you will forget stories told to you under fluorescent lights

You will forget rewriting your name into her mouth

You will forget that it comes and goes in waves

You will forget that you’re only the second to worst person in general

You will forget that you weren’t thinking but are now very conscious

You will forget her name

But you will remember the friction burn, graft it onto others and like you perhaps they will tell others about the scar it left.