Since the beginning, you gave me sentiments or yourself.
Like little golden specks from atop a shelf filled with books about you,
twinkling, awaiting my reach, like stars in the deep nighttime blue.
And as the morning came and dusk set in, I could see the shimmering things faded around our hemisphere as you reclaimed them for yourself.
I was left staring at the sun in hope that maybe it could show me warmth like your old cloth once did.
I pray either the night comes quick or I die before it gets here,
because this daylight is burning up my insides.

-Julia Aubrey Rhodes-