There are more times than I could count where I could still taste you on my lips. Where I could feel your fingers where they rested on my chest. Or how they would play with my hair as we watched a TV show. Where I could still hear your voice lingering in my ears, that uncertainty as you said good bye, and the pure happiness when we met the next morning.
There are fewer times that I would like where we were that close, holding each other under star-lit skies. Where we would laugh at stupid jokes, trying to make the other laugh hardest. Where we would walk down the river bare-foot, simply because we could. Where I would follow you without any doubt, and a single word could change me.
There are more times than have been where I wish I could kiss you. Where I could tell you what I can not in words, with lips and tongue and shaky breaths that held volumes in their silence. Where my vocal chords would rumble with the lightest of growls, wanting to grab your attention. Where I would whisper the loudest affirmations of how I felt, if only to see you smile again.
There are fewer times than could be where you held me as I wept. Where you were my anchor, and I your storming sea. Where I was your shelter and you were the tenant of my soul and heart. Where I could find no light to see, but you were there to guide. Where I would brighten your day with a word, and you would confide. Where our lives had crossed more than enough to know.
But there are still more times where I wish I had never left. Where I was still by your side, watching as you sing to the clouds. Where I could hear your heart in time with mine, and paint a picture with the breaths you took. Where our space was nothing more than that, ours. Where you could bend my will, but give me freedom. Where I could keep you grounded, but give you wings.
For all that has been and all that will be, those are the times I will remember, and the times that I will dream of.