Every passing year is like an old cello tape stuck in between the pages of your new diary. If you try to pull it out, the page will get ripped apart so you are in a dilemma whether to keep it as it is or pull it off preserving no remnants of it.
And when you slide your fingers over the piano keys, our love is like the symphony that escapes it, preserving soothing remnants of our affection at the gentle whisper of your fingertips.