The sun glared in my eyes that morning I was staring at you. Everything was golden including you. Your eyes were shut and the sound of you snoring was what woke me. I remember reaching across you just to feel your skin again. Your skin was soft and sweaty. That didn't stop me from wanting to tangle my limbs between yours. You shifted facing me, and opened an eye. ¨Good morning sleepy head,¨ I whispered.

Your eyes were green in the sun, and they spoke so you didn't have to. You reached your arms around me and I pulled myself in close. A comforting feeling you always gave me with just a simple touch. I reached my arm around your back and lightly scratched it. I did this because when I was little my mother did the same to me. I always touched the art that you had on your skin. You were a work of art, not just because of your tattoos. You reminded me of art because you stood out to me. Art was something I had always cherished. You stood out to me the way your veins always stood out through your skin. You were no knight in shining armor, you were flawed. The way my favorite sweater had a hole but it still fit perfectly. You see you we were flawed but that's how art works, that's how we worked.

We weren't perfect. We never fought, but it didn't mean there weren't times where I wanted to strangle you but you know I never wanted anything bad to happen to you. You came like the wind, sometimes your feelings were rough and strong. Few times there was nothing at all. I would have never left you and if I did, I would've taken all of who you were with me as you did to me.

It had been three months since I last saw you. I was trying my best to forget everything you told me and the way you smiled at me in morning. I couldn't live alone anymore, I had to move back in with my mother. I am a completely different person than I was when you loved me. I don't shine anymore, and my mother says I don't sing anymore. My mother and I had a long conversation about you. For weeks she asked me where you went, or what I did to scare you off. It`s always the other person who does wrong, it was I who did wrong. It was possible I got too much to handle, that's what a lot of my old friends told me. The thought of not knowing will always haunt me, like the ghost you are now.

¨What if I never love anybody the way I loved him?¨ I asked her.

¨You won't, you never have the same love twice.¨

Interrupting her, I spoke, ¨How do you know? How do I get over him?¨

¨When we lost your father, I searched everywhere for a man like him. I never again found that same soul in anyone that I met. So you see my love, we don't love the same love twice. We never fully get over someone.¨ Her voice shoke.

¨Will I ever find someone to love again that deeply?¨ Tears filled my eyes, and sorrow in my heart.

¨No, but you will find someone who will love you just as deep as you loved him, and that is when you will begin to heal.¨ She kissed my forehead, and I cried harder than when I realized you were gone forever. I miss you, but I'd rather swallow my tongue before I admitted that to myself any longer.