"Dave?"
My stomach was shaking, almost churning to every single beat. Dumf. Dumf.
I remembered that day clearly, the 21st of January 1995.
My heart kept racing on but I still didn't know why it was so unsettling.

Most mornings, I had awoken to the sight of the ever so handsome boy-toy of mine, 'Dave'. This morning it wasn't the same, when I say it wasn't the same, it was like I was in a parallel universe kind of ****...'not the same'.

Most times we were attached, not in a 'meet you at the middle of the slice of pizza' kind but the literal kind. I haven't gone a night without sitting on the other side of the toilet door or as Dave liked to call it "Dear I'm just painting the porcelain because white is just way too plain", it was cute the first forty times but it still grew old quick.

The clock had turned its short hand to 9 and that was all that mattered to me in that moment. It was 9am: breakfast time. I didn't smell Dave's pancakes, I didn't hear the sizzling of frying pans or the clanging of things... I don't cook much, if not at all; so I wasn't really sure what Dave was doing but I knew it had a lot of clangs and dings.

My day was invaded by a little bit of rain, the rain pattering against the windows used to be what Dave and I loved. When it rained, it meant we could just stay inside and enjoy each others company.

Time passed differently
It always passed differently...
I decided to sleep most of the day away until Dave came back the next day because he always did.

__________________­______
25th June 2075

"Dave?" My stomach was churning to every single beat. Two women enter both dressed in some ridiculous halloween costume. "I just woke up"

"Yes you did", the blonde hair woman said to me.

"Dave?" I called out again.

This time the other one decided to open their mouth, "Ms Louise, there hasn't been a Dave for a long time. You haven't been taking your medication have you ma'am?"
_________________­_______
26th June 2075

"Dave?"...

*Time passed differently.It had always passed differently...

People may not know my name
But...
That's completely fine
I'll die for everyone who died in vain,
Anyone who died nameless and unknown,
I'll die for you
To let you know
You're time here meant something
You mean something
You were loved
You are loved

I'll die for you,
Then someone will die for me and you,
For us,
For them,
For us all,
For everyone that
noone knows who are
Die for each other.

head hung low
where the road leads I will go,
it's a hard and a crooked life
when you're a dead man's unwedded bride.

the day moves slow,
where the road leads no one knows,
it's a hard and a crooked life
when you're a dead man's unwedded bride.

down by the road sits a man,
who's gray and old,
says the hardest thing I know
is to see your loved ones go.

where the wildflowers grow,
there's a lake that's dark deep and cold,
there I shall lay my bones.

down I go,
going to  lay my bruised bones,
and the hardest thing they'll know,
Is to have to let me go.

Many nights I have spent wishing you would come back
I'd combat the thoughts of you with numbing substance
pressing random buttons forming words and sentences.
I have mentioned this about you a couple thousand times
"each succeeding line is all written in the presence of her
as the nights bother the days; I've spent minutes dazed,
felt crazed that she would be so far and so distant".
People say time heals all wounds, as if tombs would open up
and frozen hearts would start to roam the Earth once again.
It's all a fantasy, to fantasise a world where time heals wounds
is like repainted rooms would had not once held the colours before,
the pretence and second layer is a covered decor, it's fictitious
to witness the ticking of time and suggest that scars fade,
and part ways are path ways that don't necessarily mean anything.
Times don't heal scars, nor do they properly heal the wounds,
the tunes that once shared between two people in tune still hurt
and words spoken between the two lips and heard by the two ears
are fears of memories still trying to dig itself out of the coffin
buried beneath the passage of time and the belief that everything is okay.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
Time is supposed to heal wounds but I'm consumed by the memories
the Decembers, the Februarys; months go by and the scars are still there
the wounds are still bare to the touch and all I can do is open up
the poison that numbs the feeling.
It isn't okay...
It hasn't been okay...
They keep telling me time heals all wounds, but the golden minutes
only brings up old memory visits that lead me back to where you lay.
I'd play would you rather with you one more time if I could talk to you,
but time undoes what I couldn't do. Time keeps passing and it's letting me
still remember you and for that I am thankful.

I love you.
One more year has passed.