Dearest,

You told me not to give up hope.  But it slipped though my fingers, sliding so fast like the glistening water droplets.  I tried to hold it, all that I could.  I have a few spider web strands left, they're all that is supporting me.  I'm over a chasm of remembering, holding on tight.  Everything holds memories.  Classrooms, words, the buzz of my phone.  Late nights, my sweatshirts, that santa hat.  The pictures, my prom dress.  I cannot escape him.  The store holds items that trigger multitudes of memories.  My dreams haunt me more than reality.  In them I am his.  We hold hands, always touching.  We're together, standing close.  He smiles at me.  Laughs.  Those spider web strands are slipping through my fingers, but I remain in the air.  They become weak, only to be strengthened by thoughts, by a few words exchanged. By love.