Nostalgia

Silence, but the loud type;
The type where our thoughts
intertwined and transformed;
The type where our slow breaths
Became a chorus
In unison with the ever beating pulse
Of our hearts.

Though our silence was perpetual;
The type of perpetual that seemed to
Remain prevalent through eternity;
The type that connected our lives,
Following, watching, defining us

not as individuals, but as one beautiful

enigma of grace and wonder.

Life is but a utility used to describe a journey.

She was my journey.