I will never get over you. Not completely. I will miss you forever. Miss all that could have been. I know I am just dreaming about the ideal. But that is what you are now. The ideal. Because you left too soon. To soon to share the love you had, to soon to let me know you loved me too.

I yearn for your dry hands going through my hair, your sweet perfume on the blouse I love. I know the name of it, but never dared to buy it for myself. It is too much your perfume. I am afraid I will forget your smell, I am afraid I’ll never feel too old to miss your arms.

I am afraid I will be old someday, still missing you, still wanting of a mom.