I caught myself coming back
to the lyrics of an old song,
to the colors of old photographs,
to the pages old journals,
to the every little old thing.
and to the old us.
Because memories are also place.
They are places wrapped in a beat,
in an album, in a poetry, and in someone’s heart.
And at one point in my life,
our memories once became my favorite
place I kept coming back to. Flashback after Flashback, it all felt nostalgic.
And at the same time
I felt that beautiful pain
you left behind.
(pictures from pinterest )
@ bittersweet diary 
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