gone
He set the bar high. I let you play an effortless game of Limbo while you still stand tall. But when you lay down, my memory becomes numb. Then all other senses are intensified. You leave stains of your scent with no promise of when you'll return. Your heart's insecurities bleed through your pocket protector before you even got the chance to finish writing down all the reasons why this won't work. I wonder why it even matters after I remind myself: You're here because he's not. And moving on is nothing short of back-tracking.