There were quite a few things I should've said over the years.

Like, how every day on my commute home
from school.
from work.
from a weary day of life in general,
for three-quarters of a decade,
I had conversations with you.
As if you were my passenger,
asking me about my day,
warning me about the car breaking in the lane ahead of me,
putting your hand over mine on the gear shift,
changing the FM to my favorite station,
drawing precarious words in the condensation.

Or, how a splinter of my soul always knew you'd never come around.

Oh.. and maybe how when I did my daily routines
three-hundred-&-sixty-five times seven,
I pictured you.
There.
Here.
Honestly, in every single wave of light.

Sure, I wanted somebody to turn the light off for me.
To assure me with a soft whisper.
To meld into.

But, it was always more than that.
Maybe more than you'll ever know now.