New Memories For Lost Love

They might be gone, but the memories are new.

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

I know it’s him.

But it’s not.

It’s a copy. A reprint. The idea of a memory. And yet my memory struggles to form his image. His smile exists somewhere in my brain. A puzzle piece. There are other puzzle pieces. The rust-brown color of his beard. His laugh. His eyes. But none of the puzzle…