He made me coffee in the mornings. He told me i was gorgeous. He kissed me scars and wiped away my tears. He would drive for an hour to see me. He would take me on walks and pick me flowers. He paid for my drugs when i was desperate. He did them with me. He rubbed my back when i would throw up. He held me when i was in pain from detoxing off my anti-depressants. He tucked me in bed when i had the flu. Sometimes he played guitar for me, usually when he’d been drinking. I have a drawing of an owl he drew up to tattoo on me. He also drew me a rose, and a picture of me. We played guitar in the park with his family and had a disabled boy slay us on the axe. He helped me move home. He bought me piercings. His family treated me as their own. He pierced my flesh with piercing and tattoo needles. He sent me selfies on his work break. The thought of leaving his family already has me in tears. Losing him is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to go through, shit.