I filled a notebook with hundreds of poems about you. I poured every ounce of feelings and every shattered pieces in it. Then I realized that I loved you too much. So I 
ripped the pages off. Burned it. And blew its ashes to the wind. It was my way of 
forgetting you. It was my way of unloving you.

—But I know every word by heart. Maybe, I can never really unlove with you. // A.S