Her presence is still felt, on the walls she leaned on, on the chairs she sat. Her loud laugh, her talks, still ring in my head. If I close my eyes I can almost see her in front of me.

I walk along memory lane, now and then stopping in front of the café we ate at or the interesting conversation we had. I looked at the two people who were there, unaware of the moments passing, still blissfully sitting in each others company, still living those moments.

Every moment, everything I look at, to me now, is beyond precious. Memories, they still hang around, some rusty, some now past their prime, but they are still here. I can close my eyes and SEE, what I can’t see no more. I wish I could go back, wish I could make one more memory with you, wish I could make that one the most special.

I walk these old halls, fingers lingering on moments, gently brushing the dirt off them as I fondly remember. Even the bad memories are appreciated now, for they are, after all, memories with you.

Walking away from this room then is not easy. Every moment I linger, I seem to lose my will to leave. Every second spent here is reliving the past.

I walk out of the room, and I can feel the eyes on me, my eyes. “Why won’t you fight?” I can’t look at those eyes anymore. I feel guilty. I walk on thinking, “don’t look back”, and yet every time I think that I can’t help but take one last look, one more moment that needs cherishing.

They’re like children to me, just one moment with every one. Just one more. Yet I must walk on.
At the gate I quietly turn back, looking at all that I left behind, the hours sitting waiting for you, the hours spent staring at your face on a screen, the hours spent laughing, talking, sharing what might have been. I want to cry now, but tears won’t come to me. I want to release all that I have, but my body keeps bottling it up.

I linger there for a long time, for I don’t want to leave. I can’t! I refuse to! But I HAVE to!

I look at the last, fresh memories. I look at myself sitting distraught in front of the screen, staring at the last messages. Reading them again and again, making sure I understood. Those tense hours spent writing and rewriting my replies, carefully trying to sound flippant and upbeat, manufacturing emotions with an exclamation mark. Those were the bad ones, the really painful ones, the ones I wish didn’t happen.

I walk back a few steps, out the door, out of it, and yet I am still standing there. There is my garden of Eden in front of me, how can I leave? I stand here on guard, looking in, peeping inside like a child does at the world’s most wondrous sight.

I can close my eyes and pretend that you’re standing next to me. For a moment then I will believe that she is there, her smile as she looks up at me, her own laughter as she cracks a bad joke, or laughs at mine, she protecting me from my friends( I could never be happier!), she is there yes. If you close my eyes she IS there isn’t she?

I close my eyes, and yet there is no laughter, no smile, she seems angry now, afraid. I can’t see her like that, so I am standing now at the gates of my Eden, leaning on a wall as I quietly peek at the moments, disturbing the privacy of those two people inside, but I look on.

I will move away, maybe, someday, yet the sight that stands in front of me is so beautiful. I’ll move away, someday…

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