I still press against my chest that little photograph. It became an instinct.

I used to keep it in the drawer with my heart, after you stole the summer from me.

The waiting, in your eyes any more.

That photograph took me to the echo that named you,
and made me feel safer.

I talked to it every night,
and then I turned off your eyes.

Our love was stronger than thousands of miles.

Now, with you by my side again,
I still take refuge in that little photograph
that kept me alive when the sound of your voice became faint.

Sometimes, I hear your heart beating inside. Then the light of your perfect smile blinds me, and I almost touch your soul with my hands.