I’m scared. Scared of forgetting you, of being left with only the fading memory of your importance without knowing why..
All the material things I know how to keep - a paper you once wrote, a picture, a drawing, those are kept safe and sound, I’m not worried about them. The metaphysical ones are the once I’m scared for. The many specific moments you and I used to share - your fingers touching the tips of mine, your sleepy voice on the phone, your hand entwined in my hand, and the day before you left for good. Those are slipping away from me, like water slipping through my fingers. And the more I try to hold on to them, the faster they run away.
I am scared, scared because I’m only left with fading memories and my feeble attempt to have something of you to hold on to.
I may forget all the memories, but I don’t think I can ever forget you, you’re engraved in my brain. I miss you.