I met you at fifteen and at sixteen, I fell in love with you. At seventeen, when my grandmother took her last breath on the face of the earth, you cried with me at the foot of the gray stone. When you moved away at eighteen, we promised each other with a ring that we'd never forget the love between us, but at nineteen when I called you, it went to voicemail and I felt the earth shatter all those miles away. At twenty, you had forgotten my face and I'd remembered yours without fail. I realized at twenty-one that I had lost you and at twenty-two, I saw the love in your eyes as you used them to look at someone else. When I found him at twenty-three, I thought he'd erase you from by memory but sitting here at twenty-four, I know that it will never happen.
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