I have yet to understand why love can feel fleeting. The people we choose to enter our orbit have the power to exist in the warmth we share with them. The ones who have left by their own accord, and who took their love with them, did not know the strength of their power. To be tender with love is a virtue. Love and the spaces of intimacy it occupies will always live without leaving anything concrete behind. Its remnants can be found in our visceral memories, and in the personal narratives that live inside our minds.