Today I remembered what comes after. I remembered my lost embers… Novembers, Decembers.
When most prepared for the cold, it was already around me. And when most prepared for the warmth, I was stuck chasing it.
Mourning.
I wasn’t home, I wasn’t present then and there.
… when I visit those old places, I step gentler on our roots…
…we had so much more to speak about.
But I was a child for the longest time.
I know you would say that isn’t such a bad thing.
It passed.
A sea of darkness followed it. That will pass too.
I am the son of the whitest flower and the blackest leaves. I am the abandoned home searching for its lost keys.
I allow the light you left inside of me to burn free.
And I thank you.
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