perhaps it's the quiet mornings. the ones spent in lonely moments; brewing hot tea and biting at a pastry and plucking out old memories.

perhaps it's the solitude that brings you to my mind. the times where the only conversation that is going on occurs in my head and always, always, the conversation goes back to you and your eyes and that year.

but maybe it's the hours spent surrounded by the warm bodies of others that does it; the small talk about the weather and work leave me aching for you. because i know that if you were there in the mix of the flesh and blood and heartbeats you'd talk about things that matter.

i guess what i am saying is, the only thing that matters to me is you.