When love ends, it doesn’t disappear.
It lingers in the smallest things — a sweater still carrying your scent, a song that turns into a knife, a place that feels like a ghost of us.

I walk through rooms that once held laughter, and now they echo with memories.
I touch objects that were ordinary before, but now they feel sacred because you touched them too.

It’s strange, isn’t it?
How love doesn’t vanish when people do.
It hides in fragments, in corners, in everyday things that whisper, we were here.

And maybe that’s what we truly leave behind.
Not just memories in hearts, but traces in the world around us.
Proof that we loved, that we lived, that we mattered.

Always and Forever

💬 What is the one thing you’ve kept because it still carries someone’s presence? Share in the comments.