No amount of duct tape

I went to our spot today.
That swing we made up on the hill.
Where we used to go to feel free, to dream, to create.
We used to stay up there for hours just thinking and dreaming what our lives would be, who we'd become, what would make us special.
But one day something changed. We grew up, got old. Our dreams of empty canvases were pushed out of us and replaced with lines and pencils.
I kept my Canvas in my head and showed my lined paper on my skin, just the surface though.
But you disappeared. You turned to charcoal inside, your paint dried, your canvas cracked and your heart broke. And all at once I knew I lost you, and you knew you lost yourself. So you decided to get lost and never come back. Your body..bleeding and broken and no amount of duct tape could fix you or the part of me you took with you.
Somehow our swing still sways up on that hill. I come up here everyday because i'll never forget our dreams, and our lives. I'll swing up here until the day I can touch you again. Because you and me and ou swing; we were alive, and we were infinite.