The ground you walked on made me feel proud to walk in the same direction, now I find myself looking backwards to see if you’re still walking behind me. You had sprained your ankle and you still walked miles to be with me, stayed with me, held me and told me that even when I looked like complete **** (which I did- you would say) you could still paint the sky with the color of my eyes. You brushed my hair behind my ears and told me that this life wasn't made for you. I wish I didn't read your obituary once a month.  I will never forget that night, being held and shown a glimpse of love from someone that claimed he would never know how.