Nobody cries at a song called “Missing You.” They cry at the one about the bus stop where you used to wait.

Big words for big feelings do not carry them. They name the feeling and leave the reader standing outside it. A bus stop, a particular jacket, the song that happened to be playing puts someone inside the memory, and their own version arrives along with it. Specific details are not decoration, they are the delivery system.

Take the most emotional line in what you are making and swap the abstract word for one concrete thing. A place, an object, a time of day. Read both versions and trust whichever one tightens your chest.