One day I was asked by a friend of mine, “do you still like him ? do you still think about him?”
“Apparently he is still inside.
Hiding deep between the vague layers.
Popping up once in a while to reminisce the clinging past.
Shattered here and there, yet impeccably tied with thin strings to keep it as a whole.
So when I pick them up again, it will always be as good as it used to.”