"How long could I go on writing?
Anguish drags me down, reason fades…
because it is the only thing I have left.
In these words, sometimes harsh,
I find trembling arms reaching out,
and I can only relive everything
that I have lost.
The hours that will never return,
the fragile memory that clings to me.
I never want to forget the inevitable,
yet I know it cannot be undone.
There will always be the echo of your voice,
the remains of our home,
the shadow of what we once were
still etched in my heart.
The truth of your absence
will never disappear.
And yet, I can’t help but remember
our mornings together,
when life felt light and warm,
like the dough of sweet rolls.
Do you remember?
Now the kitchen is empty—
no aromas, no laughter, no you.
Our awakening,
our desires,
the infinite affection we shared—
all of it lives within me still.”
