Never A Day Goes By
Never a day goes by where I don’t think of you not in the loud, aching way of sirens or slammed doors but in the quiet spaces between one breath and the next
You arrive like afternoon light through half-closed blinds dust turning to gold in your wake a song we used to play on repeat finds me in the grocery store aisle and suddenly I am seventeen again laughing too hard at nothing
I think of the way we mapped our futures on the backs of notebooks ink bleeding through thin paper how certain we were that the world would wait for us
It didn’t, of course Worlds rarely do
Still, in small moments I carry you with me in the way I order coffee the way you taught me in the shortcuts I take through downtown in the habit of locking up whenever the sky turns that particular shade of blue we once called “ours”
Sometimes I wonder who you are now what music fills your car whether you still talk with your hands when you’re excited if you remember the promises we made under street lamps that hummed like tired stars
Time has a talent for distance for softening edges for turning sharp grief into something almost tender
And yet never a day goes by where I don’t think of you
Not because I’m stuck in the past but because you are stitched into it a bright thread running through who I was and, quietly, who I became
