Sunsets are so much more grand once you've known sadness,
reminding you of the halcyon days from every slash of red through every majestic cloud,
melancholy swallows your veins in such a zany manner that you almost saw it coming.
The light bends regally through the gaps of clouds to put a warmth to you,
even if you're sitting alone in the shotgun seat of his truck, waiting for the tank to fill,
even if you're hoping no one in the lot watches as you bury your sobbing eyes into your aching hands,
even if you feel as though you're growing smaller,
and your soul's sinking deeper,
even if you're tired,
even if you cannot bear to utter the sound of the radio,
even if your mind is slipping,
but you still love him,
and you can't tell if you're losing him or yourself,
and it's like you built your mountain on a pivot,
even then
the light will still warm you.