I believed I’d hold those memories,
like fragile, sunlit things—
soft with smiles, sweet with sorrow,
even when I knew I’d lose you.
Now, they press like cold stones,
each one carved with your name.
The joy we had now hollows me—
all of it turned into weight.
I want to keep your laugh echoing,
not the silence left after.
I want our past to warm me,
not just bleed me drier by the hour.
Somehow, the light we knew feels thinner,
and this tide of grief drags me under.
I miss the way I missed you then—
when missing didn’t drown me.
Your smile, however distant,
is the reason I don't drown.