Archived.

E-mails saved in a folder re-named as 'Archived', with subject lines, detailing

the amount of times I kissed you, how many minutes we spent together and
memorable dates.
Dates only you remember, which is strange because I remember everything,
including the amount our last adventure together cost you.

I kept receipts and cinema tickets and birthday cards and mixed CDs you had made me.
But I couldn't keep the videos I recorded of you laughing,
because the thought of somebody else being the reason for that laugh
only makes my heart heavy.

You kissed me like a friend, the last time I kissed you,
but it was hard on my mouth so I knew you meant it.
I wanted us to be closer, yet you grew distant.
The phone calls stopped.

I can't help but wonder if the other girl,
the girl you could take home to your parents because she shared the
same beliefs as you, gets to hear your laugh.

But two weeks ago, your name flashed onto my phone screen, and you told me you heard a song and it reminded you 
of me.