A Black Car on the Highway

One of these days, Christopher,
you will not remember me anymore.
There will be no more dreams,
where I am standing off to the side,
uncaring and aloof, back turned to you.
You will not feel angry,
when you think of how things ended,
nor will you shudder each time
you pass a black car on the highway
and look in to see if the driver is me.
You will not look out your window,
hoping that I will approach your walkway,
reaching my ringless hand to unlatch your door,
with a dozen yellow sunflowers,
apologizing for failing to love you back.
You will only raise your eyebrow someday,
in absolute surprise at yourself
when you hear my name,
and realize you had forgotten all about me.