You’re everywhere, at all times. I see you in the most obscure things, in places I never thought I’d find you. You always find a way to permeate every thought, every sensation, every minuscule moment or emotion. I see you in the particles of dust floating in the early morning rays, small little infinities, bubbling over, tangling within and without of each other. They remind me of you, in their simplistic complexity, in their beauty, in their lightness.
I see you in warm quiet afternoons. See you in the coolness of a pillow after a long, tiresome day. You come out the most in these moments, the quiet ones, where I’m able to remember words you’ve said or expressions you’ve made or songs you’ve shown me. Sometimes you come in a tune, a faint one, barely there but still unmissable.
I see you in the tall aspen trees, see you in their sturdiness, in their vivid and striking greens. They remind me of you, in their brightness and liveliness in the day and their slow, somnambulant swaying in the night. The push and pull, to and from the shore, waves pulling me in. That’s what it feels like, sometimes, when I think of you.
I see you in beautiful sunsets. See you in the bleeding pinks and oranges, in the reds and cooling hues of blue. See you in the stars dusted across the night sky.
You once told me the stars we see are already dead, balls of gas long gone. When we look up, we’re looking at the past, that’s what you told me, and I remember these things, always, and keep and tuck them away. I never know theyre there, until moments like these.
The nights start out cold, long, quiet. Then there it is. Your voice drifting back into my mind. And I recall the words you’ve said.
It’s not fair, sometimes. You come and go as you please. I never know when you’ll reveal yourself again. But when you do, it’s acrid and pungent. You’re here, and it’s all encompassing, hardly ignorable. But the next second you’re gone. Like a phantom.
It’s striking to me, how you’re always in my head. Sometimes more prominent, sometimes fleeting, sometimes stubbornly constant, other times achingly present. However you are, in whatever form, you’re still there. Still here.