I know you notice me.
I know you can’t get through a week,
without smelling my perfume when someone walks by,
or thinking you saw me in a crowd,
or remembering something I did with you,
and not being able to do it alone ever since.

I know you can’t escape the thought of my voice,
saying “I love you” for the last time….

I know you hear my name pop up in conversations,
and that it’s hard to hold back the memories tied with it,
or the way I smiled,
or the way my eyes lit up when I looked at you.

I mean, I think I know.

It has to happen to you too, right?