Written September 2022, Calabria, Italy
Sometimes, missing someone isn’t a choice—it’s a flicker of color in the sky, a shift in the air, a moment that mirrors their presence and absence all at once. This is about how memory sneaks up on you, how the beauty of the world can remind you just as much of what’s gone as of what once was.
I didn’t mean to miss you,
but tonight, the sky burned orange,
bled into purple, softened to pink—
and I thought of you.
I closed my eyes,
just for a breath,
and when I opened them again,
the world had gone black.
That, too, reminded me of you.
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