Valiance.

To still lose my altitude over the smell of your cologne is abhorrent. To still compare the complimentary words from the mouths of others, to the ones you once whispered in my ear is reprehensible. To still hold your old photographs at night and dream of your face is heinous. To entertain thoughts of feeling your skin passing heat to mine is wretched. To still allow my eyes to search for yours in faceless crowds is atrocious. To long for your voice to explore my name, after all these lifetimes, is damnable. 

I miss my heart, that once beat independently in my chest. I want it back.