Everyone's moved on.

And yet the death of you still clatters within me. Like a blade striking fresh earth. Soundless. Brutal. I remember you through my wounds. My scars serve as a scrapbook.

Is it foolish to wish this all was just a dream? Penned by a twisted mind with too much time on its hands? Or maybe there is a dream to which I can escape. I would welcome nescience gladly. Take its hand. Offer my gratitude. I would gladly go into debt for the chance to shed my memories.

Yet I know you would frown upon such a venture. I know you wish me to hold on. To trust your flight pattern. You did not leave too early. You did not kiss the sky too late. The clouds have other plans for me. They caution me to stay. To wait. To care for those around me. To pass along the light.

And so through my tears, I shine.