I know that there's a strong chance that I'll never see you again, even though I have to keep telling myself that I will.
We were so close, now we're so far away. We were like brothers and sisters. But we had to say goodbye and I hate that the blame lies on me.
It's a lonely thousand miles to travel on your own, when everything I see, every diner, every town, every hotel, every bloody postcard reminds me of you. Of home.
But you know that I didn't have a choice, and that I'll love you until the day I die. And I have to wonder... What do you talk about now that I'm not there? Do you mention me? Do I come up in the prose? Or have you forgotten me?

And who is she? Does she darken the doorstep where I used to reside in the room of your hearts? Does she sit where I used to? Laugh like I used to? I remember when I used to gently tease you, eat off your plates, steal things in jest and be playfully annoying. Does she do that as well?

Do you still love me?

Say you do, please. I need to hear it from you. I'm not sure about anything anymore. You're my only catalyst in a world of shattered dreams and lonely years.

Nothing comforts my heart quite like you do. Nothing can make me laugh so hard, or smile so often.

You want to know something? If I had a choice, I would pack everything I own in this tattered little bag and and run to see you, with all the urgencies in this lonely little world clutched in my fist.

Tell me, what would happen? Would we cry together? Or would you have forgotten me? Would you see me? Or would I be a blank, lifeless figure on the face of the world.

I can't pretend I'm not jealous of her, of you, of them. They're around you everyday, constantly.

And I stand in the background, like a flower on the wall, waiting for you to notice me.

And I wonder if you ever will.