Your last words are still the fuel to my insanities,
and they never seem to run dry.
They're a force to be reckoned with,
and dare I not even try to understand.

"Do we hug, shake hands, or should I just walk away?" I asked.
You smiled that same smile and reached your arms around me,
and you whispered, "We hug."
You told me goodbye, and that was the end.
I never once saw you at the train station,
and I never did pass by your figure in a store window.
You were gone with the wind,
and sometimes I wish
that you had let me go
with you.