I’ve never heard your voice or the way it wavers when you’re sad, how it grows when you’re angry or the words your bitter tongue throws when you’ve gone mad. I’ve never felt your palm brush against my own, my fingers have never known the warmth you could give them in the cold. I’ve never heard your heart and I don’t know if it would work, does it sputter and cough a dusty beat or operate smoothly, churning and pumping robotic and coolly? I’ve never felt your weight, heavy, on top of my own. Never clawed down your back, never curled my toes savoring how you moan. I’ve never felt your pain, and I know I’ll never know just how far the blackness stains you, just how deep that hole can go. I’ve never kissed your lips, have yet to taste your skin; to see you peel it back, to have you hold me within. I’ve never been very special, have never held any importance so, I know one day you’ll leave me with only haunting apparitions- of a face I’ve never seen, smile naturally or wake deep from sleep and wipe off the morning. I’ll never feel the sting of missing you as I watch you leave or the backhand of happiness when you return yourself to me, but I know I won’t forget you when you’re just a fading memory because even though I’ve never, I’ve always loved you dearly.

-SLuR