I miss you.

You know who you are.

I wish you were here right now.

Somewhere inside the stillness in my head, I'm thinking of what to say to you. How to justify this place, how to explain who I am. You said you'd love me unconditionally, but that's a condition.

Love is a condition.

An illness. A sickness.

It's contageous.

I don't know how to tell you what I'm thinking, where I'm going, who I've become.

All I know is I miss you.

I wish you were here.

We share so much, you and I, snowflakes in the same storm, blades of grass in the same yard, the same dream on the same night. We grew together in times when growing should have been ilegal. You have part of my soul.

You have nothing.

Where have you gone?

I wish you were here.