He added things to his bucket list only after he completed them. He was a lineman’s football jersey but a button-down to Friendly’s.
He was a Spiderman bobblehead. His laugh could be heard from miles away.
He was a long-distance journal. His voice was a baritone that did not know i was perfectly in tune.
He rested the bottom of his chin on the top of my head. He was a bright red winter sweater.
Why do people say every love is different when every heartbreak feels the same?