I hope there is a multi-verse where we get to be together.

A place where we get to grow old.
We never wake up without each other.
I can hold your hand, and it feels like the first time every time.
Where I'm half asleep, reaching for your skin, and I find it.

The ideas; dreams and realities.

The expectations; silent and spoken.

The potentials; all that could be and all that never will be.

Warm hearts ****** into a cold world.
That is why it's so **** hard.

Free of contamination
from human disappointments
from the harsh reality that only you can take care of yourself

I heard a poem the other day, a line has haunted me for days.

"I want to be loved not because I'm the antidote to your loneliness, but because your loneliness runs parallel to mine." -Whitney Hanson.

I stood in the same spot where I met you.
An attempt to (literally and figuratively) retrace what lead me to you.

I thought I would feel something.
Love?
Sentimentality?
Regret?

Instead, I felt...
nothing.

You're still here.

Your laugh reverberates inside my chest cavity.

Your touch has etched semipermanent grooves in my skin.

Your smell lingers in the oddest locations.

And yet, you're gone.