Originally written in July of 2024.
The week we absconded, leaving behind all but the tenderness of our hearts and the intertwining of our hands, my soul found a peace it had not known in years. Freed from the grip of mundane obligations and the weight of expectations, we reveled in each moment of joy as if they were treasures earned together.
As night settled, I watched you sleep, your face serene, bathed in the moonlight that filtered through the nylon lattice, enveloping us. My tears fell silently as I tried to capture every detail of you, imprinting it deep within me. Even then, I sensed the end approaching, like the distant rumble of a storm gathering on the horizon. Now, it has passed, leaving behind a trail of waste. A whirlwind twisted, and its path carved into our spirits.
That first night is etched into my memory—the way I shared so freely, more openly than ever before. It wasn’t just words or gestures but an unspoken bond, an understanding that needed no explanation. In that nomadic haven we claimed, even the earth itself seemed to bear witness, grounding us as we built our fleeting moments upon its quiet strength.
Your skin, soft and shimmering like crystal under the sun, reflected the joy of the clear waters that danced around us. As we played beneath those golden rays, you seemed otherworldly—a vision too beautiful for this world. My radiant, sun-kissed sunflower, you captivated me completely. For a time, you were my Nepenthe, a balm that soothed every wound within me.
Yet, like all things not carefully tended, you slipped away. I burned too brightly, and the flames drove you back into the shadows. It wasn’t the same unknown from which you came but a darkness I unknowingly cast. My blindness drowned out your wisdom, and by the time I turned to see, it was too late.
I blinked—and in that instant, the poppy field that was our bond lay barren, its blossoms scattered to the wind. We spoke countless words, exchanged silent vows with our eyes, but even those could not hold back the tide of my self-deception.
For every moment we shared, my spirit felt unburdened. With you, there was a freedom—a release from the chains of past regrets. But once you were gone, those same chains tightened around my heart. The dynamic I thought I understood became my prison once more.
Still, even now, I choose gratitude over despair. In releasing you, I release myself. I understand now that reality cannot be denied—it can only be resisted at great peril. So I let go, not with bitterness, but with quiet pride for all we had, and for the journey that still lies ahead of you. I bless the road you walk, even if it no longer intersects with mine.
Yet, in the quiet corners of my prayers, a hope lingers—a whisper more than a plea—that perhaps, in the fullness of time, our paths, like wayward stars, might realign. I celebrate the person you are becoming, but a part of me wonders if, under gentler skies, we might one day meet again.
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