I worry, sometimes,
that I’m forgetting you.
Your unwavering gaze,
the smile that lit up your eyes,
our playful banter.
How you touched me,
how we lay next to each other,
and talked our hearts out.
wherever I am,
whatever I’m doing,
you come to mind.
Little inconsequential things,
something you said or did.
On this train journey in Spain,
I remember your travels in Italy
or the very little I know about it.
Thinking about the time gone by,
I wonder what values drive you.
You barely knew me
when I was interviewing for jobs
and yet, the faith you conveyed
in your words of encouragement,
made me believe in myself.
More than a year later,
I asked you,
how were you so encouraging?
“That was the least i could do”,
was all you said.
for your kindness and positivity,
for the love you showed
but never articulated.
Time, they say,
not by erasing grief,
but by stitching your life around the hole.
Is that how it will be?
Will you always be a part of me,
your memories coming up everyday?
Meanwhile, I still worry
about forgetting your touch
and your outlines around me,
and still hope
for another possibility with you.