His trace inhabits every fraction of my mind, lingering like a thousand dollar perfume, lurking quietly in the shadow of anticipations.

What would i sing, if he's every song? 

What would i speak, if he's my language?

What would i dream, if he's my only imagination?

Now that he ghosts and I am on my knees, I've been counting days in the loudest silence, wishing upon the heavy rain to cleanse away his stain.

But deep down, i know he will never leave me completely. And i hope someday, somehow, he will know that everytime i didn't reach out to him, i almost did.