If This Candle is Lit, Someone Is Saying Goodbye.
who needs words when sounds do their duty, daylight streaming as minutes, a cast of thousands, changed surroundings like skin, shedding it once, twice, again, shadows prodded by their agency, while I gazed into the vacancy left by your sudden omission. quietly too, like time was too shy to ask for my permission; memory obeys it’s own rules, true, so I close my eyes, take my seat. feel a gentle warmth, heat, fleeting sense of weight at my feet, a flighty, fluttering little sigh, content grunting, some shuffling, just enough time before sun’s setting to properly say goodbye inside the realm of where only you and I matter.















