Feb 13, 2014
Seven years. It's been almost a year since I last saw you. Two months since I last heard from you. Yet, every night I still dream about you. I see you, but I don't. I always see pieces of you. Your eyes. Your crooked smile and your crooked teeth. The way it felt to hold your hand. Running my fingers through your beard. Tracing the curls of your hair with my finger tips. Making pancakes in your apartment on a Saturday morning. I'll never understand why you're all over my skin. I can't scrub you off of it. I just can't help but pray to God that you weren't my only chance in life.