یادداشت dream.m

        You know, this book feels like it’s got pieces of you in every single word. Like, every page smells like you, and every line is just your heartbeat playing in my head. But no matter how much I read, it’s just words. I can’t hold you.
It’s crazy, right? How something or someone who’s not here anymore can still feel so close. Like, I swear I can almost touch you in these sentences, like they’re shouting, “You were here!” But all that’s left is this book, and me crying over it like it’s gonna bring you back.
Written on the Body is like this scar that keeps reopening. You’re alive in these pages, but out here? It’s just me, missing you. And yeah, I know reading it only makes it hurt more, but how am I supposed to stop when it’s the only thing keeping you alive for me?

On the anniversary of the day we buried your beautiful body in the earth...
SiSi
.....
It was an incredibly valuable gift from a remarkable person to me, accompanied by a note at the beginning of the book that was as full of emotion, feeling, and love as a hundred volumes of poetry.
Words that carry fragrance and gently caress my heart.

❤️❤️❤️❤️