So Instead I'll Be Your Nothing

Most days, I can't remember what you looked like,
but the smallest things have imprinted on my soul:
    the pebbly, raw texture of your skin
    the way you vocalized your favorite word
    and the coarse texture of your hair.

I've lost track of your smile-
don't remember how you said my name.
And I know I'd get it wrong,
if I tried to put down on paper
my memory of your face.

Though I hold fast to what I can remember:
    the necklace from a religion you didn't believe in
    the downward curve of your nose
    and the way you looked at me that summer.

You wanted me to be your everything,
so instead I'll be your nothing.
I've let you slip away,
only for you find your way back to me in dreams,
a hint, a memory of what was.