To her

Nobody talks about you nowadays.

But to me, you stay alive in my thoughts, my memories, my imagination.

And in my dreams. It is so much harder to wake up when I know too well that you will disappear when I do. And when I awake, it is hard not to cry. Because you are always sick and dying. I am heartbroken.

In my face are those traces of yourself which you've left behind. I used to resent it, but now I am sorry I did. I think you were beautiful. And I wish that I had told you so. I was a fool indeed.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I miss you so.