one hundred the number after 99 and before the thousandth
one hundred unsent letters written and burnt and a couple of more still kept abandon
one hundred unsaid confessions of how I terribly miss you that exchanging of sweet nothings wasn't enough
one hundred at failed attempts of reaching out that I think we weren't working things out on what should be but still kept the fire at bay until the breath of earth had fused the rest of the littlest dust
one hundred of miles apart
one hundred of flowers laid next to you even hundreds of aching hearts were entomb - they never became the same and a couple of more hundreds ever since your departure
—you were one then became a hundred of versions but I will never forgot the first I have grasp from