longer.blue

Until I'm bereft of my last vestiges of memory, I remember what you were. I remember what you were to me. Though the fear of losing you again inches closer every hour, I still hold on tightly to your remaining essence. In long, desperate struggle to keep the dead alive just a little longer. Are such acts so selfish? Am I holding you or me hostage by missing you always? I'm unsure. But if I could ever ask you, I wouldn't. As there's so much more you deserve to hear, And another "I love you" could never be enough.