My arm is cold from the crisp breeze. You aren't here to keep me warm. Your touch, the simple brushing of our arms; it is missing. And although my hand is empty and limp...
I keep walking.
The sky is an endless gray, full of sorrow and pain. You are not here to take my clouds away. I feel the stabs of sharp wind on my face. It cuts straight into the depths of my soul. For you-- you are my warmth, and I am cold.
But I keep walking.
I hear only one set of footprints, but this is not unusual because we used to walk in unison. Step by step. Only this time i could not hear you breathing. Those steady breaths that told me that I was alive. But its too late to turn back now.
So I keep walking.
I continue walking though not going anywhere. You are gone. I have nowhere to run. But I remember the days when you would tell me that you loved me. And i would fall asleep in your arms listening to the soft beating of your heart. And those days were what I lived for. So now... what is my point of living? There are so many questions i need to ask yet so few answers i will receive. But for now...
I just keep walking.