There were days we planned,
and days that drifted unplanned.
There were days we shared,
days we spoke for hours.
There were days I asked of you,
days you asked of me.
There were days I waited,
days I searched your face.
Now days turn into longings,
and nights into hollow echoes.
Every walk, every space,
still stamped with those golden memories.
The mind whispers: all is phantasm,
yet the heart still wanders,
still searching,
“where you are…”
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