I saw you in abrupt thunderstorms. I have loved rainy days and you were in the curtain of raindrops that blurred the concept of pain, the sound of scattered glass and cold on metal. You were transient and the thought of a rainbow over the skies seemed almost intangible.

I saw you in the bitterness we both adored. Since you left, I have not bought another cup of espresso. I felt you in my guts and I have no idea why I spilled them all out for you. You were in the caffeine that kept me awake, but not quite. You were a coffee stain I couldn't scrub off my skin; I was a speck of dust that you effortlessly brushed away.

I saw you in the emptiness, in the weeks that followed your departure. I saw you in the door that I wasn't sure was half-closed or half-opened. I saw you in the winds that wouldn't stop howling your name. I saw you in flaking chains and rusting promises, that are about to be reduced to nothing. I saw you in a part of me- all the words that you have said imprinted on my skin and your electrifying touch that left burn marks ineligible.

Perhaps time and tide could wash away the grains of yesterdays- the ache receded and it's getting harder to cast a reflection of you on the waves that keeps crashing and breaking. Part of you will always be a part of me, that's what every one in your life becomes, and you are progressively buried deeper within me. As I see less of you each day, there is nothing else to get over now except for the mere idea of you.