You'll continue to be on the infinitely tall pedestal from which the fall would be fatal. Fatal for me, because if you were to fall it would surely mean my demise. I don't know how you would; you can do no wrong in my eyes. When you left you took away so much of me that I felt like I could barely function. Like I lost too much blood, or a vital organ. Even though you aren't present physically, you are here. I see you in everything around me, and I refuse to accept your absence. Like your presence has permeated so deeply into my psyche that I can only comprehend a situation when you are in it. I never knew what it was to be alone until I met you, and now I know it more intimately than anything else.
That day that you left last year the chandelier fell. I don't know what happened. I was sitting at the piano and suddenly it came crashing to the ground. It looked really pretty when it was falling; for a second there was light going through every one of the crystals and it shone so brightly the whole room looked like a rainbow. It shattered when it hit though, and there's still little shards of glass all over the floor that I can't see until I step on them. The room is so dark now, and when I go in there I remember how the bright patterns of refracted light used to cover the floor.
Every time the phone rings, every noise I hear in another room, every time I walk in a large crowd of people I expect you. The hall is still echoing with the intonations of your voice. It is so quiet, but it keeps me up at night. People can't really know me if they didn't know you. I told a stranger all about you last night. It was hard to know where to even start, with my mind exploding with its inability to articulate you. They could never understand the way I saw the colors around me intensify and deepen when you were there. The way everything around me became illuminated because when I saw it, I was also seeing you. There is no one else to me.