Although I think of him often, I remember very little about him now. The odd expression or moment, the color of his hair. He seems easy to forget though I think of him daily. Other lovers have introduced me to some unique and wonderful thing in the world and each time I enjoy that discovery I am reminded anew of them. Some have shown me more than others and those I think of and remember the most. This one, however, only the the twinge of a healing scar when life pulls at it serves to bring him to mind. I wonder, as I heal, will I remember him at all in time? Perhaps as the one I can't quite recall: a name and a face from photographs. Yet I felt so passionate towards him, so determined to see his future. How can I so dispassionately forget him? He drifts, you see, and he's forever drifting farther away. I was a rock in the stream which captivated him temporarily but I mistook his floating tangle of life for a structure with which I might construct a dam. A dam to hold the swriling currents of life from sweeping me away. The dam has gone, but i still hold fast and indeed dig deeper each day.
Addendum: This brief passage in my writings is nearly all that I have to recall this man today. He has become as the ghost of a fish in a stream and I have continued to collect my pebbles and sand for my bulwark against the torrent.