ten.

because there was nothing like when your eyes met mine, when i was looking away but your hand grabbed mine, or i could hear what you were probably saying from across the room. it fit so simply in my head, as though some great red ribbon was cut ... finishing every plan.

and boy, you've been gone for ten strange months now. each fucking day, i plod forward, reaching the same mundane point, closing my eyes on the same ceiling, dreaming these same dreams, and breaking ice that's been coating my unheard pleas.

the days don't get longer, and they haven't gotten shorter. they're just the same, ripping daylight.

the nights blend together in between intersections and tricks of the light that make him look just like you. i'm ashamed to say that some nights ... i drink your ghost away in hope that one day, it won't be a ghost at all ... but you bringing me back from some nightmare i've been chasing.

i can't think of new words to put into this ... i can't believe this is my life. i can't believe i knew you. and i can't believe you're gone.

i'll have these those thoughts for the rest of this small life ... until i find you again. or the other way around. around me and you and these thoughts.