And I cry.
I cry because I spend too much time recreating in my head all those tiny things we used to do.
So tiny but so many that would fill up your whole room.
And have marked this broken city.
And I wonder if all of a sudden I’ve developed superpowers because all I can see is you on every wall, plate and song, but I can’t even be in one of your fleeting thoughts and it hurts so much that it almost feels like I still have a functioning heart.