Forgetting

My memories of you are slowly fading.
I don't remember if the sparkle in your eyes was lighter or darker, I'm debating.
I'm not sure of the exact shape of your eyes.
Or if your words were true, or flat out lies.
I couldn't tell you which side of your mouth curved into a smile first.
If your life was blessed or cursed.
I don't know which hand you wrote with.
If you believed the local legends or the most popular myth.
I'm forgetting you a little more each day.
And I can't help but wonder if it's supposed to be this way.