How could I still love someone so fiercely? How could I not move on from everything that happened? His scent and his wild hair runs through my mind as quickly as a train departing for another country. I’ve lost all senses and feelings. I’ve lost my control and my thoughts. The only thing that pulses through my veins is my dying love. I feel myself withering away from the world as his face becomes permanent in my darkened heart. The wind and the rain and the sun have no effect on my life and every color is one. My mind is no longer moved by brilliance, if not the empty echo of a hollow tunnel.

            Maybe I’m just bitter. Maybe I feel as if I deserved that sliver of happiness that could have been his embrace. I long for the days where he sat next to me, and I sat next to him. He would look over me and his sweet, sweet eyes would look into mine and just smile. We’d laugh and we’d cry, but we were always next to each other. His lies became mine and his sorrow became ours. His touch was so familiar it had turned into a completely new sense. Not sensation, but sense. Feeling became living, and living became feeling.

            The empty hole in my soul could never be filled, even if I met him over and over again. It is forever permanent just as he is forever gone.