pathetic melancholy

I’ve reached this point in this whole process where the experience of you is empty, and it brings me joy and bittersweetness. I’ve silenced your messages. I’ve stopped looking at your pictures. I’ve forgotten your favourite songs. I’ve successfully reached a different stage and made myself proud.

still.

spring reminds me of you. bees and their pollen covered feet. honey dripping from a spoon. nails scratching on blackboard - it wasn’t always easy. I see the faint ghost of you in lavender bushes and sunsets, in small brown dogs and the holes in ripped jeans. a part of my brain connects you to every melancholic song. another part hears your running commentary to my every fashion decision. it secretly hopes you’re proud.

does love ever die, or does it become an old tree stump in the back of the forest?

i have dreamed of you so much, robert desnos