i am a silent soul,
forget about me, if you must.

but one day you'll wake up
to find my bed made, but empty.
i will be off to nowhere,
but i will get everywhere.

i'll scatter myself from the sky like ashes,
i'll fall like the rains of July,
i'll kiss mountain tops like the snow of December,
i'll drift around like the golden leaves of October,
and i will be left to the wind.

i will no longer be a soul
trapped in this cage of flesh and bones,
i will run through the world,
writing post cards about all i will see and do,
but sending them to nobody.

The morning after is when the heart is at its heaviest.
Remnants of the night before are broken in fragments,
barely alive but still breathing, like wilting flowers—
Neon lights, stolen glances, cups of coffee, roaring laughter, moments when you feel like you're in love—
They turn to memories left in a time
that isn't far away just yet,
But the distance of just a few hours
makes you feel lonelier than ever.
*(The past within your reach, yet impossible to grasp once again.)