You once walked these streets
and somehow, they still remember you.
I try to forget,
but the memories keep finding their way back to me.
I’d love to hear from you what memories or experiences of your own does this bring to mind, and how has it shaped the way you see things today?
Everywhere I look, there’s a little bit of you.
Everywhere I go, I remember that old fire.
Tell me, my love,
how did you stay in me like this?
It hurts, it really does,
but I can’t tell anyone.
It still hurts,
and I can’t even admit it to myself.
Your memory is still there,
hidden somewhere deep on the left side of my heart.
I can’t throw it away.
I can’t sell it.
I can’t just get rid of it.
What were we, really?
A great fire?
Or just ashes in the end?
Your memory is still there.
No matter what I do,
I can’t change that.
They say time heals everything.
Maybe they were wrong.
It doesn’t go away.
It doesn’t get easier.
The mark you left on my heart is still here.
You left.
And I grew older
with everything that was left of you.
But more than anything,
I cried over the goodbye
we never really got to say.
I replaced the empty text with a warm, engaging reader question that invites personal memories and experiences in the comments.
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