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I remember
How it used to be.
It was like, a rainy day, just me and him.
We'd make the sun shine, and leave the sky a clean canvas for the next artist who came along.
It was like butter. Cold, and then it melted away in my hand.
He was
My love, my loved, my light, my dark, my step, my bouce, my drag, my sleep, my wake
He was
My love, my loved.
To touch, to be touched. To feel, to be felt. To have companionship, not for the mind, not for the body, but for the soul, so as not to be lonely… I am alone
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