Your smell will linger in my life I’m sure. Whenever I go to the library and see a new nonfiction book about aliens or some other weird shit it will smell like you. Whenever I pick those flowers you like I will smell your hair dye-still under my sink. I will see it and smell your hands applying a streak to my hair to match you.

You taste will too. Whenever I see stars I will taste your whiskey breath and whenever I drink whiskey I will remember us kissing under the skies. When I wear my lucky scrunchie I will taste that cake you made for my birthday. I didn’t even like cake y’know but you looked so happy giving it to me I can’t go a birthday without it. (Though it will never be as good as the time you made it.)

Of course I will hear your voice everywhere I go. I will hear you say good morning when there’s no one around, and I will hear your voice layered behind every future ‘I love you.’ Whenever I hear your favorite song I swear to fucking god you’re right next to me singing the chorus of Holding Out for a Hero. Sometimes I pray it’s not just the trees humming but I don’t dare turn around.

Your face obviously will be seen in every passerby. In the innocence of a child running past me or the griseled old woman sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. She’s nice, by the way, like you were. I see your eyes in every dull painting I can’t get them out of my head. I love with my eyes closed so I don’t have to see the person so intimately near me with a different color of them. Can I really be in love when I still have your pictures on my bedside table?

And oh god your touch… I will feel your touch in the morning when I often think you’re still here. I will feel the way our bodies brush together, I will feel your hot breath on my neck while I’m trying to get some work done and you’re tired and we both are and I will feel myself melting into your hug. When I go to the movie theater I will feel you grip my hand tight during the jumpscares and when I’m sitting in the back alone I will feel your fingers tracing my palms.

Fuck.