Promises

If, in some far off distant hereafter,
I should weaken with thoughts
Of your curling smile and
rough hewn ideas about
The inception of life, love,
The universe and everything
And send to you some
Pathetically earnest words
Of nostalgic forgetfulness,
Just promise me this:
That you will take pen to paper
And record in ink if you can,
As truthfully as possible,
All the ways that I have hurt you.
Then seal it with some wet ordeal
Into some crisp white envelope
And loose it upon me.
I ask you this simply so that
I may remember
Who I really am.

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