There's something about distance. It'll make them either forget you or miss you. If it's the first, too bad. If it's the latter, you're a lucky bastard.
I'm glad you exist. I wanted you to know that. I'm saying it to you because we know nothing about when life ends. What if I go before you? Or what if you go before me? What if you never know what you mean to me? So know this, you are everything ... to me.
He is there in the space between my words. He's there in the gap between the lines. He's hidden in the length of a 'l' and the curve of an 'e'. He's ink, emotion, paper and poetry.
Did they stand by you on your moonless night, and the next day when your Sun didn't rise? Did they hear your cries in your silence and the noise in your head?