Gone.

Everywhere I go, no matter how far I have travelled since, I just can't rid you from my skin.

The wind whispers your name in forms I am not sure of,

While puddles show me your reflection - cracked and distorted.

Bees hum your favourite song,

And peoples footsteps echo the heartbeat of which I long.

Sometimes the morning light tickles my skin,

Just the way your stubble did when you rubbed your face along my chin.

Sometimes I smile the way I did with you,

But then my heart fills up with grief,

Because I realise there's nothing I can do.

The End

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