the missing you is no longer measured in days, each time it smells like rain or the leaves turn themselves inside out. i think back on that last night, our lips like cadavers, our last kiss would be our last kiss, when they upped the dose and the machines were hooked up. and you were rationing breaths as the weight fell off, the skin sunk in, i was found counting steps in the waiting room saying 'it is ok to let go, we've already said our goodbyes long before they found us here' this is for the fallen who whished one day it would be realized that love is love is love is love is love...