Drowning in the past I'm addicted to drowning in the past. I'm compelled to live there, because there was you. You presence fills the past with the smell of daffodils, your lady perfumes cannot be seen in present shops. How can they be so outstandingly rare that once used by you, they remain with you and disappeared with you vanishingly. I so want to stick with the past that when they write about you, your presence, your alluring style, they mention a piece of me somewhere around you. I am ready to be a little part of your life that made you chuckle. Memories are better than the moment felt now. Because now it's a void. An emptiness that lost your presence. And I am pushed by my thoughts to write about you, no matter how nostalgic I may sound. I feel the need to fill your void, I feel it to be filled with your past descriptions . The past, so beautiful, the past that had me with you. The past that had a block filled with you and your beckoning perfume...
