even when you are,
nothing but a feeling.
I remember you,
even when all there is,
is hints of us.
Somewhere in time,
a feeling o despair, loneliness, nostalghia.
A feeling of a loss
of something,
that was never ours:
to possess, to claim
to forever long for.
In all my memories
of you
is the present that never was
a long for what we never became;
as if we exist somewhere
and I alone remember
each moment of it.
Your life moves forward
and I can’t tell whether or not,
you miss me, think of me,
even once remember my existence.
I long for what you represent:
a family,
companionship,
complicity.
All that never was;
and isn’t that,
the ripped fabric of a lost affair?
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️