There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss it.
The whole of my being will always be slightly less,
a fraction of it lives there
and can never be reunited with my body,
no matter how many times I return.
My nose still remembers the smells,
my hands still feel the water,
and my eyes still rise to wish upon the same stars.
Time can not heal all wounds.
The mind does not forget.
Instead, it wanders daily
to the places I called home for such a short amount of time.
It is the most imprinted memory,
of the highest quality.
And instead of letting go,
each day my heart grows more desperate to return,
rather than making things easy by drifting slowly away.
Time grows longer,
heartbeats increase tenfold,
and yet still a ghost of my being dances with my memories.
Never ceasing to ease sore feet.
Never stopping for a change in the music of life.
Part of me will always be entertained by the waltz
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