My writing is influenced by you just as the leaves on a tree are influenced by the season’s of the year. Ever changing, never yielding, but maintaining a dominant presence through the merest subtleties of your actions.
It’s been a long time since I last heard you speak your mind, yet I know how it works, for your thoughts are the sunshine’s rays that pierce through my darkened skies of anger and loathing. You, without speaking, counter my pessimism with unfathomable optimism.
Your presence is felt in every letter I type, in every thought I ponder, in every question I seek to answer and in every answer I seek to question. Yet at the end of the line, when the last full-stop is breached; I ask myself “is it all just a dream, or are you still beside me, whispering softly in my ear.”
Then, bursting out of my reverie, I click publish and you leave me to be alone in a world of strangers.