Sometimes when I’m in the mountains, all I remember is the way the sun would shine just behind your head as I looked up at you. All I remember is the way you would smile back down at me, filtered in sunshine, boyish and free.
It’s one of the reasons why I love the mountains. It was ours. It was golden.
In the elevator, someone left the scent of your cologne. It wasn’t you…well, because it wasn’t you. But there was enough memory there so that I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocated in those four walls with memories of you.
And I remembered the way you breathed my soul into you.
I remembered the way you stole every breath in me, every beat of my heart. I belonged to you. Body and soul.
There are many days when I’m sure that I have all of who I am back to myself. But there are nights when I miss feeling alive, because you see every breath and every beat of my heart was still with you.
I miss the way you needed me. I miss the way you held me like your lifeline, the way your breathed me into you, the way you lived my soul, the way you burned.
I’m looking for that spark you took, my soul you stole, my breath you caught.
I miss feeling alive.
And the only thing I can keep telling myself is to … Just Breathe. Someday, it will be easier.