I didn’t know moments could last so long. That seconds could   dance in the night and hours would smile to the moves of three bodies silencing into two then sobering into one. I didn’t know lying next to you could be so quiet or table so comfortable. I never knew that the colors would make me dance for you or that the sun would make us leave. I still look up believing that we’re there, staring at the ceiling, dancing to the silence, sobering to the morning. I walked home with eyes facing you. Every sound I heard I turned to find it wasn’t you and I’d be lying if I said that I’ve stopped. Because even though he died that night, I don’t want to believe that we did too.