From all my travels around the world, from journeys long and hard through time and space, you are the only souvenir I keep for always. Of that you have my word.
The kind of souvenirs I keep are the moments I felt so blessed, the moments your love was both spark and oxygen to my pilot light. I keep them in an album, one opened nightly by my dreams, and is ever at hand for the lucid longings of the sunlit hours.
The way your soul spoke through your eyes and sweet embrace, that is my souvenir, an aspect of memory that gives real elevation in times of need.
Memories that bring me inner light are the only souvenirs a wise person ever keeps, and so the sound of your voice, the feeling of your touch, are pride of place upon the mantle of my soul.
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