Fate was cruel to have us meet and recognize that we were perfect for each other but were not meant to be. At every crossroad I come across sights, scents, sounds that evoke memories of you, pieces of you. You live in my heart as shards of glass embedded deep; you are not whole—you are fragmented. I try to fit you back together with my yearning as my thread, yet I know I must banish you from my thoughts. I must. But how can I, when everything I do reminds me of you?
How often does my ghost shatter your solitude, and for how long does she stay? Or have you moved on and hoped that I had done the same? What if we could start again, in another life? Would our circumstances have changed? If we could choose, we’d both agree—let us meet beneath the ginkgo, and sleep as lovers sleep.