Loss seems to be a swirl.
Sometimes I hate the person that I lost.
Sometimes all I ever want is for them to be right next to me.
Sometimes I dream of us running toward each other like long lost friends who never thought they'd see each other again.
Or like a kid running to their parent that's had to work away for the week.
Sometimes I'm the parent that had to work away.
Sometimes I dream of kicking them in their gut.
Sometimes I see them driving by as I go for a walk.
I always miss them.
Always in my head and my heart.
Not gone. Not dust. Not bones in the ground. Not a soul spirited away.
But lost to me all the same.
Every morning I say hello and every night I say goodbye.
Goodnight, and goodbye.
I'll see you again in the morning.
