I had to do it.
Why, I don’t know, really.
I had to open that last picture
I shouldn’t have kept it
It’s there in the file, easily accessed
What is it about not letting go
You only hurt yourself
Looking at those pictures
Torturing yourself with memories
Why do we do it?
Thinking about him never stops
But seeing his face is another matter
That face you love
That face you want to hold in your hands
Those eyes you can’t forget.
Why can’t I forget
Why do I look at the picture, again?