We were a kiss in the winter night. That slight feeling of familiarity in a sea of discomfort. We took unto each other as any symbiotic relationship would. As much as you needed me, I was too ashamed to say I needed you too. I wanted to be your hero, but who is willing to be the hero of a hero?
Scattered moments recollected. Memories were all we had of you, beautiful you. You left a footprint on many of hearts. This of course brought out the green in my eyes filled with envy, which I covered with lies.
I had wished I was the one and only one you touched so deeply, but I wasn’t the only one swaying through the darkness of bereavement. I could empathize with every other being you had known in your lifetime and it killed me. The irony was like a stray bullet to the heart; not intended and so unexpected. Your feelings of inadequacy were the death of you. Neglect caused a constant ripple. You thought nobody loved you.
You were so wrong.
I could have so easily been in your shoes. You were me, but I was so you. That was before I met you. Maybe you were like my guardian angel. When I cried out for help you saved me from myself.
You gave me life.
You gave me poetry.
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