I wonder how long it will take for you to be a memory?
Nothing more than a tiny piece of a past life.
Because right now, you’re still as real as the first moment that you laid eyes on me.

Still as real as the feeling of our hands together, our bodies combined into one.

Still as real as that place by the river we would go to to hide away from the world.

Still as real as the initials you carved in the side of that old railroad track down town.

Still as real as the messages you stopped sending. Still as real as the questions that you left unanswered. 

Still as real as the scary thought that caring too much was actually possible.

Still as real as the harshness that you had no trouble handing out like samples.

Still as real as the self esteem that you enjoyed crushing until it had no choice but to break itself and attempt to rebuild.

Still as real as the heart ache from knowing that being okay was never going to be an option.
So tell me, when will you be a memory?