You are everywhere.
In every restaurant we went, where you’d sit or kneel beside my chair, take my hands and tell me I am your everything. Every single time we dined.
Among the pages of my notebook, where I wrote our story as it happened and poems that came out of me when I thought my heart would explode for you. Poems you teared up over when I read them aloud.
Below my balcony where you would whistle for me, and I would exit to see your broad smile and shining eyes. Sometimes with your bicycle, sometimes with your moto helmet, sometimes with roses in your hands.
At the airport arrival where you waited with signs for me, again and again. Where we fell into each other with kisses and laughs of joy to be together once more.
The beaches where we would picnic at night, music playing on our phones. Or sometimes swim naked by the light of the moon.
My bathroom mirror where you’d be at my shoulder as I readied myself for our evening out.
The pillow you would hide chocolate bars under so you could feed me bits at a time.
Every cafe we sat shoulder to shoulder in, hands entwined.
Every street we walked down arm in arm.
My closet where your shirts hang slack.
Your final entries in our calendar.
The vacant airplane seat beside me.
My unread messages.
My empty bed.
Everywhere.