i. you will miss him in drizzles and monsoons, in swells and tsunamis. you will listen to his favorite song for hours; it will hit you every unexpected moment. it will hurt, stab, ache, and you will suppress constant screams with strained lips.

ii. you will collect everything he gave to you and wonder if it is dimensionally real. you will sleep in his shirts, retaste saltwater kisses, and reread conversations as if there's something you missed the previous thirty times. absence does not make the heart grow fonder; it rips it apart and you cannot stitch the ragged halves with no thread.

iii. you will feel his touch presently in everything you do. it will be soft and cruelly comforting. it will constantly and inescapably linger. it will haunt you in early rainy mornings and dark lonely evenings.

iv. you will read endless musings on love and philosophy. you will entirely understand foucault's prison. you will live in steinbeck's tide pools and stars, and relate to simon bolivar trapped in his labyrinth. you will wonder why everything is like this, ugly and broken (and also if you are becoming delusional).

v. you will drink tea that scalds your tongue and stand outside on freezing nights, numb and overfeeling at the same time. you will ask the silent moon a thousand questions. you will see him and blink, head swimming, heart pounding in surges. the stars will wink and the wind will mock you.

vi. you will have blissful afternoons you forget and sorrowful nights you remember. it will still consume you in bouts, devour you in spells. nighttime will become both your enemy and remedy: it will wickedly remind you, yet help you heal.

vii. you will try and fail to make sense of him (and the universe in general). you will grapple with reality and yourself. perhaps you will never know why he stopped loving you: you will keep wondering how some things can just be left broken.

iix. slowly, slowly, you will sprout on your own; you will be tender and nearly whole. most importantly, you will realize his love brought you an entirely different kind of happiness.

ix. you will stop worrying and trying to piece together an empty puzzle. even the deepest scars find their way of fading. your mom was right: stop picking at the scab and your wound will heal.

x. you will learn to love yourself in ways he never could have loved you.

I suffocated myself with the words I didn't say.

For you I would mature twenty five years in a day
Just to let you see the gravity of the words I say
For you I would build a stylish invisible cloak
Just so if you wished to hide like flames behind smoke
For you I would willfully wrestle brutish alligators
Just so I could hear you speak of how you'll see me later
For you I would build all new things about me
Just so you would see no shattered shards or defeated debris
For you I would be Frankenstein's experiment
Just so he would inflate my heart to that of an elephants.

You with a giant heart accept me for all I am
Whether my name would be Peter, Clark or Sam
You did not need me to change anything at all
There was nothing I could do but tumble and fall
You don't mind my current maturity levels
Or how I'll laugh at the word ***** devils
You seem to accept me for, well just me
And with you I feel there's no one else I need to be.

Love and stars are alike, they are both true
But I think the beauty of both things lie with you.
Repeating myself of love that flowers and bloom
like an echo that never fades in volume.

I stopped counting my heart beats
When I know my heart could count on you
And this is the last of today's word repeats
**"You will always be in my heart and I love you."