We haven’t spoken since March.
Now, isn’t that perfectly depressing?
I think about it a lot.
I think about it while I stare out of the bus windows,
While I let everything rush in and pile on top of me…
the images and trees flitting by…
the flashes of memories of your face, your smile, and your voice.

Everything about you is right beside me,
but I know you’re not really here.
You would never stay around me this long, right, friend?
I’d stay beside you, right there…
maybe forever, if that’s what you need.

Your ungainly hug still leaves warm spots on my shoulders and my side.
I swear that I can still feel you leaning against me.
I know I can still feel the painful knot in my throat, which I tried to hide.
Your embrace:
it made me feel shorter than you, even though we were the same height,
and it made me feel warm even though I was cold,
when it was around eighty degrees Fahrenheit.
It almost made me happy, but I also wanted to cry.
Because it was making me really see that I was saying goodbye.