I wish I could tell you what if feels like to be me. Here, I am in a realization that there's no one like me and no one that can touch me that way again. What makes me who I am is that I lost the one that touched my soul.
Ahh.. my poet, I am so sorry for the loss of that spare heartbeat that rings so loud and so true, and only for you. May it be given back unto you as the mind wishes it to be and even better, this is beautiful my poet in its melancholy ink spill