I remember it *all.*

How you thought I was Molly Ringwald until we talked.

How you called me every five minutes until I picked up the phone.

The messages on my voice mail: "Cornholio!" "We're like kidnappers or something." "I love you..."

Music. HM. Your web site. Tattoos. Braids. Breasts. Newsletter. Editing. Message boards. Woodie. TGIFridays. Plowed. Earrings. Martin. Studying. Sponge. Teaching me. And *no* alcohol...Poppa. Beautiful. Creature. WOF. Bagels n' strawberries. White/under/lace. Cinnamon.

Talking to your kids and your friends. Especially when you'd put your office phone up to your home phone.

The pictures you'd draw during your breaks and fax to me at work. My silly pictures of "Cin." Mock threats to Randy.

The late night phone calls: sharing our dreams; pouring our hearts out to each other; you falling asleep.

And the wake up calls--the only time I could wake up before 6:30 AM!

The $374 phone bills.

The tape you autographed for me and your inscription: "...to the soulmate I've longed for...you are the wind to my sails..."

The longing in our voices. The storms in our souls.

All the laughter. The pain. The solemn prayers.

The look in your eyes when I held you.

And how you withdrew from me before you even walked to the door.

And immediately, the phone calls ended. The nights were silent. My mailbox devoid of messages.

I also remember how you forgot about me. The forgotten promises. My love overflowing. My outstretched arms from which you turned away. My whole self (which I, for the first time ever, was unashamed to give) an offering to you.

I remember you ignored me. *ME!*

And how I could never figure out what happened to turn you away. And you could never answer.

How I always made the first step. The unacknowledged cards. The three and four-hour "reunions."

How you were angry that I couldn't come to your show. Like I drive!

And you told me that you still loved me. Never meant to hurt me. But you never stopped.

I don't understand how you could abandon what you said you most desired.

Amid my confusion, frustration, pain, and sadness, there's still love.

No matter now. What a way to find out. And me still keeping a brave "face." What a joke.

Yet, I truly hope you're both happy.

But why in hell does she have to have my name?

Sixteen candles down the drain,