There's a time i remembered every single thing too well.
And keep asking the hows and the whys.
2 times. Different place and time. Different in storyline.
The memories that never recede. And there I'm begging for another chance.
There's your sweater, still neatly hanging in my wardrobe.
A year had passed but still your picture in my purse.
Am i not over it yet, or it just a process of adapting.
the stain seems permanent, maybe not in heart but in my head.
It is really hard. when you lost interest in everything.
The matter that once excite you, not anymore.
Or it is because the losing of someone, who is the source of inspiration.
Make the world slowly collapsing.
