I still think of you. You still cross my mind. A closed chapter, bookmarked to read back every now and then.
Sometimes I still take a peek to see what you’re doing in life. And I wonder. I question.
But you seem happy. It feels you went back to your roots, back to a trusted place of love, hope, comfort.
I’d like to believe we both moved on. Yet, somewhere I’d also like to know if you still think about me too.