Your words have always been so strong and effective.
You said things that made those 2,371 miles feel like 1 millimeter.
And when you said those things I felt like I wasn’t just talking to you, but I was touching you.
I could almost swear sometimes that I could feel your fingertips on my skin.
That I could hear your heartbeat.
That I could see your eyes and smell your hair and taste your lips.
I felt you.
Somehow through all the distance, you found your way to my heart like you never had to look at a map once.
You made it there so quickly and never left since then.
But I on the other hand, only got to touch your heart for a split second.
Unfortunately, my visit there was cut short.
I never got to help you the way you helped me.
I never got to touch you the way you touched me.
I never truly got a hold of the strings that could make the butterflies in your stomach dance.
I guess my hands just... slipped.
I’m so broken.
I can’t even begin to tell you how much it hurts.
You’re my whole world.
What am I supposed to do when my whole world is gone?
I’m slowly but surely slipping away.