I need to forget you 
so that I become myself again.
I had unlearned loneliness.

I need to remember who I am, 
to hobble on the crutch of self. 

You taught me the braille
of tenderness, the sign-language
that digits speak. I need to learn
how to forget you. 

In fact, I will forget you -
as soon as time leap-frogs eternity, 
when the moon forgets to orbit
and becomes sedentary.

I will forget you the moment
memory in Lethe drowns. 

I promise to forget you. 
It is a vow,
the vow I promise not to keep.