When You’re Haunted By The Ghost Of Them

Quin Stevenson


You remembered him like it was serenity. You stop in your tracks, gaze at the sky, smiling as you begin to close your eyes; then you breathe — like it was your first.

You remembered him just the way you found sense in fiction. You’ve been reading but never truly found something that makes you. Then you found the piece that spoke to you… to your soul. Reality began to drift away.

You remembered him like you’ve found your way home. You’ve been losing and finding people to belong with, leaving you like they all do. Then you saw him, dipping his toes in the shore, with the sunset enveloping him and looked at you — It felt like coming home after searching for so long.

You remembered him like the way you saw color for the first time. You’ve been in love with monochromes, but you always knew there will be colors that would change the way you see life. He came in strong contrasts, pastels, and hues — it felt like love, bursting in technicolor.

But there’s a beautiful kind of chaos with remembering you. I want to be okay with forgetting you.


You might’ve forgotten how his voice sounds like, but you’ll never forget the way it felt after hearing it.

You might’ve forgotten what he looks like, but you’ll never forget the way it made you smile for the first time.

You might’ve forgotten the way he feels like, but you’ll never forget the way his touch lingered like it was the last time.

You might’ve forgotten how he smelled like, but you’ll never forget the way it reminded you of peace and pure bliss.

You might’ve forgotten how his kisses felt like, but you’ll never forget the way it made you realize he was the one you’ve been trying to find all your life.

And I wish I could say that I’ve forgotten them… but I didn’t. I didn’t because no matter how I try for my mind to forget — my heart remembers. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

✍🏻 Social & Content, Freelance‬; Aspiring photographer & filmmaker

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