I don´t remember

  I do not remember the colour of your eyes.  

I can´t remember your skin, or your eyes.

I can´t remember your laugh, or the way
you have

of speak or shut up.

I can´t remember your hands,

those hands that

slowly, slowly,

sometimes recreate

to draw silences.

I don´t know how you were.

You see? I can´t remember.

All is well then.

Except my memory.