Oh, there was something beautiful found in the darkness of the world we created. One of blankets and soft sighs. The way your hands would smooth over bare skin and along my cheek. Something magical in how you would slide between the sheets in the morning, a soft and mumbled hello, a kiss to my temple as you drifted into sleep beside me. Limbs tangled, reverie found, and we would abandon consciousness in the early hours of the morning, letting the sun and its followers live a life in the outside world: we would just maintain our handfuls of peace. Despite all you've done, those moments remain with me still, and I'll always smile.
I miss those snapshots of the life I once had.
But I do not miss the man.
I wonder if this is what they call 'growing up'?
