Our past, has not yet passed.
L ife has a subtle way to stop, as everything keeps going forth A woman can forget anything and everything, except her last moment with her first love. and sometimes, while a slow Autumn afternoons drags on and rain plays with the grass blades covering them in mud, our soul, drenched in nostalgia, can suddenly remember the man we adored, the one that filled with butterflies our empty heart and with happy occassions our till then empty life, the man that we thought we could never live without,... Sign in to see full entry.