A portion of me will always feel empty without you.
A portion of you will always be lost inside of me,
like a tumbling weed
like a freak wake
like a stolen kiss
like a dream forgotten.
You’re the portion of me, I’ll never own, but always enjoy.
We are a collage made from all the people we’ve met, fought, fucked…
They stay within us, as we stay within them -that’s how we love them.
It’s clear to me, that I’m nothing without you, and I’m everything, because the portions make the whole, and vice versa.