the puzzle on his wall gleams like a jack-o-lantern
smiling like one big practical joke
he remembers how they scattered the pieces on the floor and put them together
bit by bit
hair and dust would get caught in the pieces
it drove him crazy
that was before she went abroad

he tries to grasp onto all the pieces
he doesn't want to let go

the stories she would tell him
talking lollipops and trees that bore medical equipment

he still sleeps on one side
leaving the other half of the single bed empty

he still keeps chocolate in his apartment
they lay there, waiting
her infatuation with sugar

he never did buy another helmet for her
she would always wear a friend's or something
he wanted to but they never got around to buying one

he remembers how easy it was to get used to her sitting behind on his motorcycle
how warm it was

he doesn't listen to his ipod that much anymore
he knows he'll start wallowing if he does
every song seems to remind him of her

she never really could sing
she would do it just to annoy him
singing off tune loudly

he knew that she liked testing him
his limits
his love