Isn't it peculiar

Isn't it quite peculiar how you can remember other people's faces but not their names?
How you recognize that glint in his eye and that crooked smile on his face
but not how you once uttered his name
and asked him questions that caught your interest sometime ago?

Isn't it peculiar how sometimes it's the other way around?
How you vaguely remember hearing this unlikely confidant spill his deepest darkest secrets
but not how tears spilled from his sad, sad eyes
and trickled down from his cheek to yours?

Peculiar, isn't it, how there are moments that you'd rather forget but you can't.
How you want to bear in mind and never forget the lesson you just had to learn the hard way
but not how you felt while you threw wisdom and control out of the window, stayed in his arms,
moaned, gave, received, laughed, cried
and shook yourself to the core?

Peculiar, isn't it, how there are things that are done even before they have begun.
How you find yourself tearing down that jack-in-the-box you created with your impulsive foolishness
but not rebuilding the fort you have painstakingly erected
put up, took care of, sacrificed for, created, polished
and perfected that even you can't stand its perfection?

Peculiar how you want one thing and need another.
Peculiar how a seed so little and ignored can grow so strong.
Peculiar how it can be so alive!

Isn't it?