The Box Of Numbers and Letters

three : once and the last

Once, I had you.

Once, I held you.

Once, we were one.

Once, your voice was as clear as day.

Once, I knew you.

Once is all I ever think of when the night descends, when all that surrounds me is the ghost of what was.

Once more a chance to trace the echoes in my chest — a wish that would remain formless and get carried off with the wind. You had my heart the first time and it remains so, even when you went drifting offshore to the vast untouchable seas.

Once was the last I had you.

Once a glance upon your curtained eyes and I crumbled like brittle clay, cradling your cold hands in the warmth of mine. I begged once more for you, but you remained timeless, submerged by the sand in the brimful end of an hour glass.

Once you may have been, but twice I will do anything to have you back.

Twice the miles I will walk to have what I once had.

I will join you once more however long that will be.