My heart shatters & sinks & skips a beat every time I'm reminded of him, reminded of the times we've spent together, where we've gone.

I'm here in Boardman waiting to get my heart checked, the only thing they'll find is broken shards with your fingerprints on them, poking & prodding at my chest plate every time you appear in the empty cathedral of my skull.

The spot light sometimes comes on & memories dance around the stage like a gymnast, interpretive dance of our journey. The details of perfection, not a single memory left out.

I'm the only person in the crowd, weeping at the beautiful performance of emotions, I can still hear those wind chimes your mother had hanging on her porch & the bird houses filled with babies that were placed in nearly every tree. I clap for the good times an almost silent low pat on my palm & I empty a box of tissues for the bad.

I sometimes wish I could touch the performers & guide them through the dance. There's a red rope in front of me before my thighs, preventing me from doing so.
The security of my own moralistic values prevents me from speaking out, I sit back & watch the silent mime dance to the ground as the memories soon ended, the curtain closes, the good times are over the audience of one whispers... "encore."