It’s really scary, sometimes you wonder if time heals at all. When you look around it seems everyone wears his smile, says his favorite words and smells his scent. 
Those hands grasping toughness like they were made for each other, those hairs sticking to his skin whenever his body is wet. Those lips, though weak from a day’s puff, glows like a sunflower and never speaks of its ordeal. Those hairs again, that tickle every fibre of feeling whenever I touch them. 
Does time ever heal? 
When I look at another, I secretly wish he was him. 

When I be with another, I secretly hope it won’t be the same.

When I want another, I earnestly pray, another won’t want him. 
Does time ever heal?