We were just two kids,
Two hearts that found each other
through screens and static and late-night laughter.
Miles apart—
West Virginia to Kentucky—
but somehow, it always felt like you were right next to me.
You called me your ******
and I called you mine,
two ADHD souls who couldn’t sit still,
but always found calm in each other’s chaos.
We matched in ways I can’t explain—
your energy, your heart, your way of making me laugh
when the world felt too heavy to hold.
We’d talk on the game for hours,
your voice in my headset like home.
COD, Fortnite—
you teasing me when I messed up,
me pretending I didn’t like losing to you.
Sometimes, we’d hop on Google Meet,
just to see each other’s faces.
You’d be lying there in your bed,
hair messy, glasses slipping down your nose,
that soft country smile that made me melt every time.
We’d talk until the night got quiet,
until I was halfway asleep,
and just before I drifted off,
you’d whisper so gently,
“I love you… sweet dreams, ******
And I swear, those words
still echo in the corners of my heart.
You were only fifteen,
but you were so much more than a kid.
A volunteer firefighter,
a hard worker on the field,
someone who gave when life never gave back.
You’d been through foster home after foster home,
felt like nobody wanted you—
but I did.
I wanted you.
Because I saw you for who you really are:
kind, protective, funny, and good.
So good it hurts.
Now you’re gone,
locked away for three long years,
for something that wasn’t even your fault.
You were just standing up for yourself,
against the kind of person
who should’ve been protecting you.
And it breaks me,
because you never deserved this.
You should be out here—
making dumb jokes,
laughing with your friends,
telling me I’m bad at COD again.
Instead, you’re behind walls,
and I can’t even hear your voice anymore.
Your sixteenth birthday’s coming soon—
November nineteenth.
Three days after mine.
We should be celebrating together,
staying up late,
being weird and happy and us.
But instead,
I’ll look up at the sky that night
and whisper “Happy Birthday, William,”
hoping somehow,
you’ll feel it in your heart.
And when you get out—
I’ll be seventeen, you’ll be eighteen.
I’ll drive those five hours to see you,
no matter what.
You won’t have to stay there anymore—
if my dad says yes,
you’ll live with us,
and I’ll finally get to see that smile in person.
No more calls, no more screens,
no more “goodnights” through pixels.
Just you and me.
I miss you, William.
I miss the way you made everything better,
the way you loved so quietly but so deeply.
You’ll always be my ******
the country boy with blueish-gray eyes,
the soft laugh that still echoes in my dreams.
And I’ll always be the girl
who never stopped loving you,
no matter how far apart we are.
Forever means you and me,
even if I have to wait.
Sweet dreams, my ******
I’ll see you when you’re free.
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 12:41 AM UTC
We were just two kids,
Two hearts that found each other
through screens and static and late-night laughter.
Miles apart—
West Virginia to Kentucky—
but somehow, it always felt like you were right next to me.
You called me your ******
and I called you mine,
two ADHD souls who couldn’t sit still,
but always found calm in each other’s chaos.
We matched in ways I can’t explain—
your energy, your heart, your way of making me laugh
when the world felt too heavy to hold.
We’d talk on the game for hours,
your voice in my headset like home.
COD, Fortnite—
you teasing me when I messed up,
me pretending I didn’t like losing to you.
Sometimes, we’d hop on Google Meet,
just to see each other’s faces.
You’d be lying there in your bed,
hair messy, glasses slipping down your nose,
that soft country smile that made me melt every time.
We’d talk until the night got quiet,
until I was halfway asleep,
and just before I drifted off,
you’d whisper so gently,
“I love you… sweet dreams, ******
And I swear, those words
still echo in the corners of my heart.
You were only fifteen,
but you were so much more than a kid.
A volunteer firefighter,
a hard worker on the field,
someone who gave when life never gave back.
You’d been through foster home after foster home,
felt like nobody wanted you—
but I did.
I wanted you.
Because I saw you for who you really are:
kind, protective, funny, and good.
So good it hurts.
Now you’re gone,
locked away for three long years,
for something that wasn’t even your fault.
You were just standing up for yourself,
against the kind of person
who should’ve been protecting you.
And it breaks me,
because you never deserved this.
You should be out here—
making dumb jokes,
laughing with your friends,
telling me I’m bad at COD again.
Instead, you’re behind walls,
and I can’t even hear your voice anymore.
Your sixteenth birthday’s coming soon—
November nineteenth.
Three days after mine.
We should be celebrating together,
staying up late,
being weird and happy and us.
But instead,
I’ll look up at the sky that night
and whisper “Happy Birthday, William,”
hoping somehow,
you’ll feel it in your heart.
And when you get out—
I’ll be seventeen, you’ll be eighteen.
I’ll drive those five hours to see you,
no matter what.
You won’t have to stay there anymore—
if my dad says yes,
you’ll live with us,
and I’ll finally get to see that smile in person.
No more calls, no more screens,
no more “goodnights” through pixels.
Just you and me.
I miss you, William.
I miss the way you made everything better,
the way you loved so quietly but so deeply.
You’ll always be my ******
the country boy with blueish-gray eyes,
the soft laugh that still echoes in my dreams.
And I’ll always be the girl
who never stopped loving you,
no matter how far apart we are.
Forever means you and me,
even if I have to wait.
Sweet dreams, my ******
I’ll see you when you’re free.
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