We havenāt talked for such a long time, I canāt even recall the exact sound of your voice. I donāt remember your laugh - I remember the crinkles by your eyes and that dimple on your cheek and how it deepens - but I donāt know what it feels like to hear it, how it once made my heart swell in my chest, not anymore. And yet Iām sure that if I heard a million people laugh, yours would still stand out to me and maybe Iād turn around to look for the source and wonder how something so simple is enough to make my blood sing. We miss the memories, not the person, is what my father used to say, but how can he explain why I drop everything when I hear that one song we used to dance to and why that blue sweater you borrowed me still sits at the bottom of my closet when I could have thrown it away? How does missing someone make any sense when that person is still around, is somehow still a part of your life? How am I supposed to get over that? How does anyone?
missing you / n.j. (via ninasdrafts)

























