Life is beautiful. I want to share the little gleaming moments with you as someone who sees through. And with each passing day, it gets easier to let go of the need to have you at my side. “There’s a near copy of them in every town,” a voice whispers. It’s your nearness I haven’t experienced, so how would I miss a sensation I have not felt? Sweet conversations are what we were. But as you’d said, we would sooner than later run in silence. I deserve more for myself.

Perhaps quality needs time to reach the now. We’ll be strangers again with your faded voice and blurred face. And only the integrated parts of you remain in me.

When my eyes shut, I hear your voice guiding me into the abyss. Our hands are outstretched in a space they’ll never meet.

You live in my imagination with no immediate importance. And I write not to soothe my soul but as form. My words are not of endearment, especially here, but of disappointment.

If you knew me well, you’d know my gaze does the talking.

Saturday
May 18, 2025
I stopped to let you in.
You entered.