Unlearn

I learned to love him.  
I learned to feel that extra gush of blood
Flow through my body when I saw his face. 
I didn't like his smell or think his smile was charming,
Or daydream with days to come, when waking up besides 
his tender smile was life. 
I learned to love him, love him plenty, love him fully, 
unconditionally.
I learned to love what I was supposed to love
and what I wasn't. 
The gap between his two front teeth, 
the dent of skin in his upper left arm
which made me feel like he was mine, 
the freckles on his neck that grew with the sun 
and his hands, which learned to intertwine
with small and thinner hands,
with my hands.
I learned to love the words he wrote,
The words that only I had permission to read.  
I learned to love the words he spoke when we were alone 
and learned to miss them when we were not.
I learned, I learned, I learned,
Then one day, I stopped learning.
And the extra gush of blood came automatically with his presence,
with his smell, with his every move. 
I stopped learning and he stopped loving. 
I started cherishing and he started forgetting. 
I tried to forget too but it was useless.
How could I forget something I had learned so well? 
He loved and forgot because you can forget feelings. 
They vanish like the day does with the sunset
when night approaches the land and overwhelms it
but doesn't hurt it.
Ask me to forget how to love you, so abruptly, so crudely 
And I'll respond
Try to forget that one plus one is two.