I miss you and I'm not going to tell you because I end up screaming it at the top of my lungs. Every night, my arms reach across the empty space in our bed, hoping to feel your embrace one last time. Every time I wake up, I pray that I'll discover it was all a nightmare. Every time my phone rings, I pray it's the doctors telling me it was all a misunderstanding. Instead, I'm standing over your grave, reading you this note. I've always been told, life's not about the breathes you take, but the moments that take your breathe away. But what happens when the moments that took my breathe away were always shared with you.

Oh sleep, oh sleep!
How I miss thee!
If only I had not taken you for granted.
I never feel as awake as when you are by my side, but when you're not close I fear I can't survive.
When we reunite, you take away all my blues, especially in that deep sleep filled with dreamy hues.
When will we meet again?
I surely look forward to it!

For hours upon hours
I sit on a flimsy, old chair
amongst a large gathering of people
too engrossed in their troubles to notice
that the hours feel like days and days
of loneliness, trapped inside these walls
looking out to see that no one has a care
for the things I feel inside
day in and day out
365 days of the year.