There are so many ways in which someone could be shallow, and he engulfed none of them.

Breathtakingly beautiful could be the most accurate way to describe him and everything he brought along. He could turn fiction into reality, because he was always self-aware that the second one would never be as perfect as the first. He was the most flawless innuendo; an allusion of hopes to everlasting happiness.

As for me, that's what I was changed into when I was with him. He beheld the power of transforming me from being an emotional wreckage and turn me into a stable disaster.

There was so much passion about him that screamed for you to stay with him, be a part of him. There was so much love about everything he did that it invited you to hold onto the love he was always so willing to give. His passion did not just define his existence, but mine as well.

He painted like Michelangelo and played like Beethoven. He spoke as Nietzsche and acted like Gandhi.

His voice was a sonata of soft tunes and his words were sweet like cotton candies. When he spoke you could heard not just the solo, but the whole orchestra in him. Sometimes he brought the sounds of his throat to incredible crescendos, loud as fireworks, others so low you had to put unimaginable efforts to try an figure out what he was trying to say. He was a musician and I was a concerto waiting to be created.

He brought metaphors to life and placed them elegantly in white paper. He was a poet and I was a simile waiting to be written.

He was a painter and I was a drawing waiting to be put to canvas. In the few words I could describe what he was to me and I was to him let's say he was the brush that painted my dreams, the pen that wrote out my life, and the instrument that invented the tunes of my existence.

I would like to say I loved him in all the ways you could love a person. By that I mean about the times where you can grasp the whole essence of someone with just a breath. In which you could interlink your past, present, and future in one sole glance. When you can feel invincible with just one touch. When you see yourself reflected in that person's eyes and you see not who you are, but who you want to become, and that someone you want to build is better than all the things you had ever dream of being. Those times in which a smile means the world and a touch is eternity. The lingering sensation of happiness so big you think you are going to explode of pure bliss. When ecstasy is too asphyxiating you think you are going to choke. When your pulse increases with the purity of words.

Or when your heart cracks with the purity of failure.

Love is in its full form desire, and desire is passion. And the concept of passion is so difficult to explain through words; passion is life. If someone is your passion means that he is as well your life?

Yes.

Life is a bittersweet contradiction of moments, and just as life, he was bittersweet. In the endeavors of destiny he was the most rapturous way of fate. We crisscrossed paths unintentionally, it was casualty that brought us together, and because of the same casualties we drift apart.

Ours was an uncommon story of flawless beauty. And flawless tragedy. It can be described as sweet, ethereal, and delicate. It was the greatest breakdown I've ever ventured myself to live, and even if I could change the story I don't regret any moment of it.

Maybe I would do it differently this time, but if it would have been different I wouldn't be here writing this.

He once told me "The power of words consists in creating immortality" and I think it's worth giving it a shot. Because I could make this immortal maybe these prologue would stop hurting, and the epilogue wouldn't be so hard to write.

And maybe it could be a last chance to bring him back.