Mr.Heart

I am reminded of being a child, and preferring to sleep on the side of the house next to the road, with the window open. I remember thinking, "all of these people late out at night, in their cars, have a life of their own, and for a brief moment, they have passed by my life, filling it with company as I fall asleep. And they have no idea". And feeling comforted by their presence. More than any real person at that time.

The night we were told you weren't going to make the week, it was raining. The branches was knocking on your window, and the flower had started to wilt. From what I presume of lack of water. The night you died I dreamt of you, reaching out to me. Telling me you loved me. But that you had to go now. When I awoke, I was told the news.

Not even human btw I'm a close approximation

I will always be a sentimental moron, I'm okay with that