Imagine;
You are perched onto a hood of an old 1968 ford mustang, listening to the person you cherish most strum onto the chords of their acoustic, "You know what i found out?" They stated, continuing to tune their guitar under the midst silhouettes of the sun-rays that golden your skin, "What did you find out?" You inquired as a mien of curiosity filled your insides, "I found out, when people are gone, people around them know that their soul is at peace, but their physical appearance is what hurts them most, knowing that they will never see them again."
A hazel laughed filled your throat and it came out in the most cheerful way possible , "You're right," You replied.
But you knew they always were right from the beginning, just remembering the memories, as you grip onto their sweater to your chest, holding it tightly as if it were a bible over an open fire, you clutch into your hands as if it were too hurtful to let go, "You were always right." You viewed the photo that stood near the bed, standing onto the table "You're right when you said people miss their appearance, even knowing they will never see you again." You continue to clutch it, "And I miss you."
Sometimes; there are times when we all look at that person, and wonder, if they think of you as the same way as you think of them.
- E
ns 15.158.61.46da2
