i am the vessel that carries my grief;
you come in waves;

you are a familiar scent that comes from nowhere but lingers for just a moment;
you are a slight, cool breeze that grazes my forehead when i’m warm and cozy in bed;

14 years later, i fear that i’ll lose the sound of your voice (i haven’t);
i fear that i’ll lose the sight of your luminous smile (i haven’t);
i feel you.

though your footprints cease to exist on this earthly realm, you transcend time and space;
if i had known that the last time i hugged you would be the last time, i would’ve held on a little tighter.
if only, if only, if only.