You cling to your perception that the one you loved is sacred; too pure to subject to an everlasting haze of forced amnesia, but you’re allowed to forget them.
In the middle of speaking, you might forget how to finish your sentence. You might lose your train of thought and completely forget what you were even talking about in the first place.
The art of forgetting you
The pain, the torment
The lust, the love
All of you…
That is an art form I have not mastered yet.