When one leaves, They never really do. They are present in the void They have left you with.
Sometimes, you think you'd be recovered from a heartbreak. But when I saw the picture of the pagoda I took on that day, I saw your face. Memories resurfaced, the sewn heart has a few stitches loosened, and what if's appeared once more like how they did on that fateful morning. We weren't close, I admit we never were. But you affected me greatly, and I wish I'd done better. Now I can only look at you in photographs or in memories and dreams. Suddenly, reality seemed less of a reality compared to the dreams and photographs you were in.
It's my grandma's first death anniversary. I suddenly miss her. Her absence doesn't feel real.