We had no warning,
no nothing.
I remember our last hug,
I thought it was a see you soon,
but part of me missed you already.  
I didn't know you wouldn't be there for my graduation, my wedding,
my life and all of the steps in whichever way I was heading.
I wanted you there, every inch of the way,
instead I have to imagine you, every single **** day.

I'm scared of missing anyone but you,
I'm scared the holes in my heart will just get bigger,
I'm scared the more people I miss the air that I breathe will just get thinner.
I'm scared the more people that leave, the more I will have to try,
and the less I will remember of you, still wishing you were nigh.

I want my brain to be bigger,
I want to keep every memory like they happened yesterday.
I want to bring back every piece of you and hide you like a stowaway.

I'm slowly forgetting you,
and as hard as I try, you just keep getting further and further
and further awry.

I've been in a car for the past three years,
watching you out the back window,
waving.
I remember our last hug.
I remember the day we left your house,
I thought it was a see you soon.
We've been slowly driving away for the past three years,
moving a tiny.bit.each.day.
The second I noticed you becoming smaller I started to panic,
I'm sitting here, manic,
watching you get smaller, and smaller, and smaller.
I'm just ******* sitting here.
I want to press the brake but it's broken,
I want to rip the keys out of the ignition but it's like they are super glued in.
I'm trying to open a door to jump out but there aren't any handles.
What kind of a door doesn't have any ******* handles?
I'm scratching at the door, screaming to get out,
hoping a god hears me,
praying that a god hears me shout.
I'm gasping for air between my pitiful attempts for help,
gasping for anything that remains of you.
Gasping,
hoping I can breathe the pieces left of you in and hold my breath until I pass out.
I'm pounding at the door.
My knuckles are bleeding but no pain is worse than that of slowly forgetting you.  
I'm trapped and the only thing I'm being told I can do is accept it.
Accept that you're gone.
"Accept it, and move on"
You left us, but every single day I feel like I'm leaving you.
It's like losing you all over again,
slowly forgetting you.