Remnants
That night I longed for your presence, I searched for the ferris wheel tickets we bought on our first meeting. I wore again my music fest bracelet while going back to that summer when we bang our heads to the music of our favorite bands. I touched again the chocolate ice cream stains on my old shirt while reminiscing the funny memory behind it.
That night I wanted to go back to our old days, I played the film I took in which you're dancing weirdly to the beat of a modern country song. I scanned all the polaroids of us I kept on my journal, and adored your smile once more. I reread all the tear-jerker handwritten letters you wrote for me, and I wrapped myself again with the kind of pain I always wanted to romanticise about.
That night my heart wanted to feel you near, I recalled all your stories about mythologies, all the theories you knew about science and wonders, and all the quotations you've memorized from your favorite novels. I listened to your taste of underrated songs, and drowned myself again to the nostalgia of us. I watched that one 90's movie you always remind me to put on my list. And I went back to that very glimpse of you, cracking a joke, while we cross upon the pedestrian lane.
And I want you to know that it hurts; realizing that only poetry, along with the scattered remnants of you, is all I can run to that same night you walked away.