Bits of you and pieces of me intertwined and escaped into the galaxies that are unexplored and unseen. There is an inexplicable emptiness that I have rarely felt before, and it neither saddens nor excites me. It silently prowls inside of me, gnawing. I can smell you on my skin and that expands the emptiness. Your eyes, the windows to your soul, carried such an ethereal magic in them, lighting up everything that they see. Your fingertips bled silver into me as they wrote poetry with their fierce yet delicate touch on my bare skin. Your lips sang the gentlest song as they planted ephemeral life into my neck and face.  Your chest heaved and fell, and with it.. I did too. You exploded into a million tiny stars and with you, I did too.. and then some more. The warmth of your skin punched a hole into my being; a pound of flesh of you cost me more than I was prepared to give, but it gave me more than I was to prepared to receive as well.

As you and I meander through the universe, without roots and branches, looking for the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything, and as we deprive ourselves of that which we think we do not deserve, I have hope for you: I hope that with the world unexplored below your feet, the constellations like silent guardians above you, and the beauty in your soul like the wings on your back, you will rise, shine and rage against the dying of the light. And I hope that your courage outweighs everything else – dysfunctional and insecure – that ties you down, in order for you to soar faster than a Firebolt. I also hope that our paths serendipitously cross again so that I may show to you the sun-kissed gold that unknown to you is shining in you, and then.. show to you that spaces, football and understanding can peacefully co-exist.

I hope that it is night then.