P.K

Today my world is crumbling a little...maybe just breaking off around the edges—falling into obscurity. The granite that held it so solid has shifted, and underneath i only see black nothingness.
The world is so grotesquely unfair.
I wanted to see you—i needed to see you, to tell you i love you, to tell you i see you. But i couldn't or i didn't try hard enough and now i never will. You aren't hiding around the corner on the wet cobblestone streets. You aren't waiting for me to find you like a big game of hide and seek. You just aren't anymore.
When i think of you, i think of light. I think of the universe and all the little pieces that become so inconsequential when you look at the larger picture—how they seem so irrelevant from far away, but up close they're integral to all that we know. This isn't a comparison. You always were relevant you always made something, said something, did something to love. With a gin in your left hand, you conquered the world with metaphors and assonance—you drew parallels to vertical eternities and sipped with a lemon.
You have changed the world and I'm so frightened to see it wither away without you. You are a beauty beyond ages, stronger in spirit than most are in ephemera. I'll miss you, along with so many—and those who didn't meet you will never understand the magnitude of what they missed.
Bonne chance, à bientôt.