It breaks my heart that the last day I ever saw you was the first day I really knew you.

I remember how we all lined up to sing. Single-filed tip toes in the warm, body-filled darkness. They were singing music that moved us. Remember how we moved? All heads turned forward, for a moment we were invisible. Invincible.
Awkward and gangly, we had never even talked before. So we connected through the swinging of our limbs.
She hushed us; the audience would hear.

We shared a mischievous glance through the dark.

There is an empty space on the church pew now, every time we line up to sing. We are a broken instrument.

I wish that I had talked to you. That I had sparked a shred of beauty in the void.

I wish I could have made you change your mind.