Where do you go? When you're not here? Do you miss me? I do.

I miss the me that was without all that you are.
I miss the me before that moment when the earth stopped spinning at your hello.
I miss the me that believed in love and had not witnessed the irony of your beautiful scars.
I miss the me that didn't hurt, that rode the wave and let things be what they would.
I miss the me that never felt your touch, that never brought his lips to yours.

Now, I am consumed. Swirling within your grief at being taken, drowning within my grief at the sound of our boy's laughter.

Now I am lonely, my thoughts of you driving me further from the light and deeper into a melancholy orbit, where the only existence is within your unbeating heart.

I see you, all the time, a suggestion of the life I could have had, had the reaper played fairly, his attraction to your flame stronger than mine.

There is no regret here, I loved, deeply and without remorse, every inch of your being.

But today, I'll die a little. For you.