I Keep Pretending

I keep pretending 
I won't remember
who you are, 
that the sky above is no 
longer special, 
nor the earth below,
nor the stars that should be
but are not. 

Already I have forgotten
 the fragrance of 
chocolate, the scent of
 perfume on the dressing
 table, the music through 
which we viewed the world 
as if we were looking through 
a veil of clouds,  but still, 
I remember gaily painted 
cafes,  wine bottles whose 
necks dripped with wax, 
rose petals  crushed and 
staining wet cobbles, 
those last words,  
the feel of skin wet with 
the smell of desperation, 
the hopeless lips, 
that final kiss.