When you left me hanging. 

You are one of my favorite summer memories. Wherever you are, I hope you’re doing well. I hope you’re happy. I hope you’ve moved on. I hope, in little things, you’d remember me: in acoustic songs, in thick books, in feminism, in tranquil mornings, in strong coffees, in the scent of jasmines, in black dresses, even in trash films. Because I’d remember you: in kind gestures and words, in the color blue, in nature, in intelligent conversations, in summer’s wind, in the word “fate”. One day, I’ll allow my heart to go on a search for you. But for the meantime, I’ll accept what is. You leaving me, when I started loving you.


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