Stains
I was the happiest on his birthday, when I surprised him with a candle in a cupcake and he kissed me. Or when he kissed me by the water on the hill and looked at me as if we were in a dream, asking “Do you feel it too? Is it real?”.
You hold on to those things because they were pictures painted with happiness. Even though they fed the pain all this time. I never let them go, I never will.
