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.