Little details, here and there.

Small conversations stuck in the air.

Late night talks and laughs—

you remembered all of that.

Little details about me

no one knows—

you remember.

You remembered,

remembered how I write.

No one else does,

only you.

You remember how I hate certain things.

But the story doesn’t end there,

because now all I know is you’re slipping away.

Taking all my secrets, love, and passion away.

You slowly but surely pull away,

like any other day.

You were there—

then you weren’t.

I’m your memory,

and you’re my thoughts.

or number 2

Little details, here and there.

Small conversations, caught in the air.

Late-night talks, quiet laughs—

you remembered all of that.

Little details about me

no one knows—

but you remember.

You remembered…

remembered how I write.

No one else does.

Only you.

You remember the things I can’t stand.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Because now all I know

is the way you’re slipping away,

carrying my secrets,

my love,

my passion with you.

You fade,

softly,

like the evening sky.

You were here.

And then—

you weren’t.

I’m your memory.

And you…

you’re my thoughts.