It has been so long
since I’ve seen her eyes,
I was starting
to forget what they looked like
against the contrast
of a beautiful morning.
I dream of her
every blue moon,
but only in sleep
can I get this close,
feel the warmth
of sun leaking through
those old yellowish blinds,
touching skin
I can’t reach.
I see her
when I shouldn’t,
in photos,
in half-watched videos,
in the sound of laughter
that once belonged
to this room.
Some things don’t leave,
they just stop answering.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 4:48 PM UTC
It has been so long
since I’ve seen her eyes,
I was starting
to forget what they looked like
against the contrast
of a beautiful morning.
I dream of her
every blue moon,
but only in sleep
can I get this close,
feel the warmth
of sun leaking through
those old yellowish blinds,
touching skin
I can’t reach.
I see her
when I shouldn’t,
in photos,
in half-watched videos,
in the sound of laughter
that once belonged
to this room.
Some things don’t leave,
they just stop answering.
walking around the isles of the corner store,
watermarks visible everywhere my feet take root,
lost, i start to find puddles i left behind,
the cashier glances three times over, concerned.
the florist outside picks me up
with smiles and a bouquet of flowers,
unsure of what to say i duck my nose into their wiry stems,
just to find out, that the flowers are fake,
the smiles abundant of insincerity,
her kindness as meaningless
as the cashiers concern,
And once again,
I'm drowning.
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