The thought of life without you was foreign.
The thought of us was not.
Every moment I spent was waiting for you.
Waiting and waiting. Day after day.
Until one day I realized you weren't going to show.
I sat and thought.
How could I have been so stupid?
A tear trickled down my face. Escaping through my shut eyes.
The trickle grew into a stream like when you turn on a faucet.
That river grew into an ocean.
A trickle was now a foreign concept just like how I thought my life without you would be.
This ocean of tears may dry up, but the streams will forever run.
The streams are aided by the small trickle in which it was once started.
Once you create a hole you can't ever truly erase it.
Just like the streams. They will never run dry.