I’m in love with the memory of us and the anticipation of what would have come to pass if we survived.
Lost in the distance now, rustling like leaves in a gentle breeze I find myself searching for answers to questions I am yet to ask.
Staring out into that bleak absence and knowing that is all it is, absence. Devoid of all love that once burned brightly.
Clinging on to the hope in the cracked and stained parchment of my life, the ink fading with the yearning of time.
Tears we shared fall gracefully, abseiling the crevices of our cheeks, dreaming of catching our lips, the salt licking our wounds.
Hope exists, it’s just harder to hold, like sand through my fingertips or your perfume in the air.
Love remains, but it’s not for you to share.



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