Voice

I swear I can still hear your voice.

It's like on a wind. Brushes past me. Old memory, long forgotten, but it whistles past my ear.

I think I can hear you.

You're laughing. You often did, around us. But you were often silent as well.

Oh I do wish you had spoke more often. Maybe then I could hear you clearer. Maybe then my memory of your voice would stay by me for longer.

I remember once, I had a headache. And when I woke, you were right there in front of me.

It's so scary how I know I'll never see you like that again. That I'll never hear the sound of your voice. That I'll never hug you again.

I used to feel guilty about not thinking about you, Anna. I used to feel guilty that a person could forget so easily! How could I? How could I forget you?! How could I not think of you more often?! I would feel horrible.

Sometimes now, I think the same. I think of you and wonder my thoughts never rest on you, and then I would feel a little guilt.

The human mind is an expert on self-preservation. Up till now, even two years later, I still have to force myself to remember that you're dead. I can't just remember. I know you're gone, but it doesn't click. Hurts too much when it does click I guess.

Even as I'm writing this, I keep wondering if you're reading this.

If you're reading this Anna, I've moved on.

But I still miss you.