wish you could've met him too been someone to hear me cuz my learning him, my yearning was good and real and true maybe he was too perfect for me so many feelings ago he happened to me he drew me in charcoal pencil in my shades of black, gray and even between that he taught me how to drive with my hands to drive wihout needing my feet he taught how to love with my mind and music, art, words, imagination that chair got between us too fast I didn't care, but he did and I was too young to know to know how to convince him losing him was as bad as losing how to walk because it happened to him not me and he couldn't feel anymore anyone below his arms he left me and because he happened to me not him and I couldn't feel anymore anyone above my arms was that as bad as the loss of his legs?