I have forgotten you, but my heart still feels you

For everyone who has loved and lost that love, rediscovering the memories is like remembering that dream that ended in a vague but memorable note. Why is it that we touch some people only once but they remain with us forever? Is there a way to insulate ourselves from these people who affect us ever so deeply, but subtlely, that we only discover their value after we lose them?

I don’t know which truth is harder to bear: to know that you almost kept that person with you forever or to be happy that the he/she left you with just a haunting memory and did not stay long enough to really hurt you.

If you have ever been almost totally in love with a person, this excerpt of P. Neruda’s poem is for you:

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.

We keep those we almost loved in our hearts where they belong, along with the sadness of what could have been.