Love is so short, forgetting is so long. - Pablo NerudaBut once we forget...then what? Do we then become happy again, or in the process lose our capacity for knowing--experiencing, perceiving, appreciating--happiness? With the pain of separation, do we lose the feel of the small of a lover's back? With the shouts, the sweet whispers or the laughter that is the very definition of happiness? With the calloused hands, the soft lips? I'm in such a hurry to forget--looking forward to meeting other people, experiencing new things--that I cannot help but long for the small moments that made me happy (and happy to be happy), and feel the pain of realizing that they were--and are--fleeting. How can a man love if he forgets?
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