Because with each breath that escapes your lips is another one that takes me further away from us.
Because with each movement of the hands of a clock, I allow myself to think of the memories. The smell of your cologne and the sound of your chest moving up and down.
The first moments of falling in love.
I allow myself to remember the touches that became so much more, foreign to familiar overnight. The accidental sweeps of hands turning into holding hands. The shift of your body against mine.
Because, before us, I never knew that human beings could exchange such an intense electrical shock between one another.
You stole my heart.
It was natural.
But we were always acutely aware of the waning of time.
And there is always the first night where you sat at my feet and I felt the electricity pulse throughout my entire body.
And there is always the second night where the moonlight filled the room and those three words slipped out.
And there is always the time where we watched that sappy movie, tears falling from your eyes and you never denied it.
And after all of the time spent with you, people always questioned where our hearts really were since we never actually became a thing. They question my sanity because even after all this time, it is still you – always you. But between us, I miss the crisp Fall air that flowed through your car as you took my hand and tickled the back of it all the way back to your house. I inhaled deeply, unaware of the pain that was to come in the following months because then there was you. I miss exchanging books and music, the looks you would give me when I handed you the cheesiest ones because then there was you. I miss watching you pretend to fall out of love with me because then there was you. I miss sobbing on the cold floor, praying for someone to hear me because then, at the very least, then there was you.
Down the road, they will call me unhinged when hints of you still bleed through, and I will tell them not to worry, I’ve moved on. Deep down, there will still be you. Because you became, like, 75% of me. In the way that I sit silently, staring off into the nothingness. In the way I cry. In the way I cherish the cold rain on a hot Summer day. In the way I write.
So, don’t worry.
I’ll carry you with me forever because there is always this time, that time, our time.
There is always you.