There was a time when it felt like anything was possible. At least that’s how it looks now, looking back. Life moved on. Things worked out. From the outside, it even looks fine.
What doesn’t show is the creeping habit of remembering. Old places. Old faces. Old voices. Small moments that never made it into stories.
Those memories don’t cause pain. They quietly keep things from falling apart.
Like glue.
And after sitting with them for a while…
I am left alone.
With a piano.
⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ
