The here

You are already dead in my time. But you are still here. You are the whispering wind that sends goose bumps down my spine and the sensation of water as my foot breaks the surface. You are a lover's fingers on my cheek and a drunkard’s elbow in a crowded bar. You are the grass beneath my toes and the sky above my head. So I smile. Because you are in that too.


Via - I wrote this for you