|I don't sleep much, so it stands to reason that I don't dream much. In fact I rarely dream at all. Something different happens- I used to dream, I remember dreaming, and its nothing like this.
I shut my eyes and I see you or don't see you, but either way you're there. Somewhere. And if I want I can reach out and touch you, but I can't feel you. And if I want I can lean close and listen to you, but I can't hear you. Its a shell, just a hollow place inbetween your skin and bones and blood and veins. I wish I could be the one to fill it up. I wish I could be the one to complete your puzzle; I wish I could be your missing piece. Or just any piece. Any part of you, for any amount of time. The rain on your face or the wind in your hair or the sun on your skin. The car you drive or the doors you close or the shoes you walk around in. The windows in your house or the flowers in your back yard or your toothrbrush or your coffee mug or your favourite shirt and tie.
Because for longer than I care to reveal, you have been a part of every piece of me. And I don't know how to live the rest of my life knowing that I'll never be your weather or your windows or your warmth.
I can't stand it.
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