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🎀(i miss it, i miss him with a yearning so deep it swells beneath my skin) aching not just in memory. but in marrow, in breath. tell me—how do you survive a life that has lost its axis? how do you quiet a mind filled with fragments, with echoes of a laughter that no longer lives here? someone once asked me "how is your life now, after him?" and i—struck dumb by the enormity of the void had no reply.
what does one say when language no longer reaches the depth of one’s grief? so i sat still silent as if carved from the very sorrow that clung to my skin. eyes turned toward the dimming sky, and i breathed slowly, deliberately inhaling the crisp air of autumn’s final breath. this perhaps, is all that remains: a stillness between seasons, where the past lingers, and future holds its tongue. 🕯
⠀ ⠀
🎀(i miss it, i miss him with a yearning so deep it swells beneath my skin) aching not just in memory. but in marrow, in breath. tell me—how do you survive a life that has lost its axis? how do you quiet a mind filled with fragments, with echoes of a laughter that no longer lives here? someone once asked me "how is your life now, after him?" and i—struck dumb by the enormity of the void had no reply.
what does one say when language no longer reaches the depth of one’s grief? so i sat still silent as if carved from the very sorrow that clung to my skin. eyes turned toward the dimming sky, and i breathed slowly, deliberately inhaling the crisp air of autumn’s final breath. this perhaps, is all that remains: a stillness between seasons, where the past lingers, and future holds its tongue. 🕯
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