They said I should forget about you.
That I can't love what doesn't exist anymore.
But to me, you're still so real.
Every last memory is tangible,
tangled threads ensnaring my fingers,
I'm still reaching out for you.

We were young and in love,
what a sad cliche.
You were such a dreamer,
and opened my eyes to art and poetry and music.
I still love all those things,
but they remind me of you,
all so tangible, but intangible all the same.

They said I should forget about you.
That I cannot love what doesn't exist anymore.
But they're wrong.
You still exist
and I don't believe in love.
Not anymore, not with you
gone from this world.