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I walk past the places we used to go, but they don’t feel like home anymore. Your name still lingers in the air, but it’s like a ghost that doesn’t care. I want to forget, but I’m holding onto the idea of you, like an old photograph that’s fading, but I can’t let it go. And maybe that’s what love is— a collection of things you can’t ever really leave behind.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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