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