Wendy,

some days I sit and hope

I can forget you. Soon. Now.

And I wonder if it would hurt,

if one day you came back and

I had no idea who 'Wendy' even

was and it was like the word, the

name, meant nothing to me.

It's useless, because I know that

I cannot forget everything we've

been through. I cannot forget

our adventures. Maybe that's

the downside of never growing

up. Kids remember everything.

Tinkerbell sits on my shoulder

and she whispers in my ear,

"Maybe that's the downside

of falling in love."

I hate her.