All the Same (poem)

I can forget without forgiving.
Melissa Coogan

I have a long memory,
longer than any other capacity
within me. I don’t love as long,
hate, or stall in neutrality
as long. I remember what you said
that night we met (You can’t leave
until this wine is gone) and I remember
that you attempted an I love you
too soon and I remember all
the details you’ve omitted since;
these staggered moments
are grayishly all the same.
Because in the span of seconds,
you test my ability to love
and hate and shrug, so when I look
back on these winks of time, they blur
into one, which means this:
I haven’t forgiven you.
I can’t remember if I should.