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He was meant to draw what I wrote, Just like I was meant to write what he drew. We were meant to complete each other, In the other we found missing parts of our souls. I wish he could see what I meant, When I said I could live for him. When I said I was breathing for him. So he would have understood why I couldn't do it anymore, without him. Without his drawings to write, Without his body to touch, Without his soul to love. I wish he could have seen what I've always seen in us, That even through despair and chaos we only needed each other to breathe. Now we lost each other's missing piece.
