I can’t help but wonder about my own broken heart. Why am I holding onto some hope that I’ll have her in my arms again? It makes no sense, and that’s the reason I won’t share my feelings about it with anyone. They’ll just laugh at me for loving her so much. When I close my eyes we’re together. She’s running through a field of tall grasses, while beams of sun are shining down, highlighting her brown wavy hair. The smile on her face makes me beam, and I stand there, arms open, waiting to catch her when she comes into my reach. I want to lay there in that field with her until the sun sets, and even after. It’s no longer about making love. In that moment I know she’s mine, and nothing can tear us apart again.

I just wish I could talk to her. I want to tell her that I miss her. I need to know she’s okay.

I need to know she’s still alive.