A breath full of memories

When I think of you, it never feels like you exist outside of my thoughts. Like a figment of an imaginary character that I morbidly breathe life into. Maybe because it's been forever since we spoke and all the conversations between us in my head have been fueled by what I would want to hear you say. All I have left about you are things from my distant memories of us, together.

I sometimes revisit our walks, those conversations, your fingers lightly brushing against mine. What I can give to relive those moments, to once again feel young.

Remember when I asked you which flowers you liked and you replied, petals- the tender touch of petals. I was surprised at how thoughtful you were about things. 

I wonder when the spiral started. It was too late by the time I realized we were going to break after all.

The vows of eternity dispersed all over my broken heart, like a heap of dried leaves covering the freshly-earthed-corpse.

I wish you could be there to get me through it. But again, if you were there, I wouldn't ever have to be sad again.

I must have questioned a zillion times as to why it had to be this way. You could have turned back and looked at me on the day we parted or called me to find out how I've been keeping. I'm sure it wouldn't have cost you much.

With you taking off after your dreams, I guess you forgot the girl who now spends her time plucking petals from once full flowers.