he crawled into the deepest and darkest parts of my mind, making himself at home. i let him do this. i tucked him in every night, doing this felt as if every trauma that once was was put to rest.

every morning when we woke up, it felt like i was a child on christmas morning. cold yet so ******* comfortable under all these blankets. i held him close and held on tighter than he held onto me. it was always like this. we stayed like this for as long as he would let me. he was always the first one to get out of bed.

i followed him closely, in fear that i'd lose him right in front of my eyes. his pale skin matched the snow that covered the cars and grass in my neighborhood. his cheeks were always painted with roses, the same roses that reminded me of the ones he bought me once. i always looked at his cheeks when things would go wrong.

i fell in love with every part of him. he was home to me. he took up every thought in my head, every room in my house, he filled my veins with his presence and yet, i still couldn't get enough of him.

i try to convince myself that, in the end, nothing really went wrong. that we were just in different timelines when we were together, not ready for each other yet. and most of that is true. neither of us were ready, yet we both dived head first into each other, into all of this.

i could talk about all the red flags that he planted in front of me. but right now, i miss him. he's gone and i sometimes still feel the way he ran his fingertips on my body. i remember his touch and when he looked into my eyes, i felt reborn.

now when night falls upon me, he comes into bed again. i stare at the ceiling and it all happens again. time picking up faster as it would replay the end, i see how it ended every night. even then, i would do it all over again if it meant that he would be here again.