I stare into the face of that memory and can’t remember the shivers or the hold.
I stare into the smiles and reread the words and don’t know the story that author told.
Strange how quickly a star can fade, how far a few miles can become, how odd that you can stay sewn when you were sure you came undone.
I look into that memory, that bright spot stained. It happened to a different girl, this is a story I’ve read…surely it wasn’t me who went through all that love. And pain.
I don’t quite remember how it felt. Alien to my skin. I don’t quite remember the feeling, the smell, the happiness of him.
Try to relate to this memory. Try to feel the past. Either my heart is dead and numb or I honestly don’t have a piece of love left for what is gone.


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