I remember the way you let go of my hands. I hold that tightly in my head;
The way you slowly pulled away, then all at once instead. I can still smell the rainfall from that night. I can still recollect your short breaths, as you mustered up your final final goodbye that paralyzed me to my bed. I've seen a ghost in the mirror these past two years. Or was it all in my head? You always said you could never leave, so does that mean I am dead?
