Two years have passed,
Since I saw him last,
And the seasons drone on forever.

And the rest of this year is left,
Until I might see him next,
But it looks as if it might be never.

Often I imagine him sitting near,
Talking how he would if he was here,
But this pretending just emotions a cover.

This never-ending air between us deceives me,
Smelling more like him and less like its Breathing Tree,
But it’s oxygen and not my lover.

And it feels like I need both to breathe,
Like my lungs and heart are welded in one big heave,
But my mind is not that clever.

“Get over him,” it says again and again,
Only my heart knows I can only begin,
And that this task is an impossible endeavor.

And yet, barely two years have passed:
Three treasured and these two severed,
I did not know these feelings would last,
But in all this time they’ve only feathered.

And I miss him.