I stand at the edge of the cliffs.
Water gushes and collides with the rocks beneath.
The wind lingers in my hair as the cold bites.
I shiver, but not because of the temperature or the height.
Your jacket hangs over my shoulders, your smell barely there anymore.
I think back about the nights;
When I wore your shirt to bed under my own over-sized shirt just so I could be as close as I could possibly get to you.
Every tiny detail of that garment, I have memorized and engraved in my mind.
Yet I know I would not be able to put it into words if I was asked to describe it.
A gust of wind gnaws at my feet once more.
Wait for it, hun. We're just about there.
Where our feet leave the ground.
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