Here I go

He said he wanted his last words to be “I love you Orsolya. You’re the best person I know.” This was a couple of nights ago. Yet, we still stand here; talking about what might have been. He has said them; said them in so many different ways over the years and it didn’t always require words. He has said and showed it so many times that I can’t even remember. We talked to each other day and night, yet I still go to bed with a petrified heart. Petrified because I may not see him at school the next day or ever. The next day he showed up to class with coffee looking tired. And I ran to hug him. My ears pressed against his chest.

And right now when all I want him to do is hold me in your arms and hug me and tell me “it’s a moose promise” he’s not here. I want to hear his heart beating. He was my angle, but it was too cold outside for him to fly. He wore hoodies during summer, when I borrowed it on a cold rainy day. I saw why. He was _beautifully damaged. I cried. He made me promise never to breakdown again. When I asked him “why?” he smiled and said, “These cuts remind me of the mistakes I’ve made.” That moment I realized how vulnerable and weak he actually was. Behind those big biceps that he got lifting irons bars at the gym, behind that smile, for the first time I saw the real him. Damaged and depressed. He promised me so much, gave me so many memories, guess they meant nothing to him. He was leading the path we were walking. He was the light. Damn I messed up real bad. I need you to come back. Then I realized. He was never there. Memory is an abstract painting. All I ever wanted him to know was I was ready to wipe his entire tear away. I was ready to tape up all the cuts. If somebody hurt him I was ready to fight. Mostly importantly I was ready to call him mine, but he gun is gone. And so is he. And here I go.