Whispering your name in the early hours of January used to be a midnight melody that we would fall asleep to. It has now bled into the curtains where I hide behind, listening and searching for it. Desperate, I pick the lock on my pillow where I keep what’s left.
Your smile has a sepia stain to it.
Your face has faded.
All of You—parts of me disappearing.
I want to believe that the world stopped…but we both know it never did. Maybe it’s just a day overdue or something. With dawn’s peach-flavored sky topping the snowy drifts and birds rehearsing for the morning’s gospel, perhaps today would be the day you walk back into my life.
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