Fingers curled. Eyes blurred.
Teardrops splash the photo in hand.
A beautiful photo. Our photo.
Each tear holding a story of its own.
Stories of joy, of sorrow, of longing.
The longing to see you. To smell you. To touch you.
My soul dives into a state of melancholy.
And in the joyful bitterness, I find myself with you once again.
Wing
