The grocery list, a phantom now, mocks my empty days. I crave the chance encounter, the sight of you—perhaps with a burgeoning family—in the echoing mall. But even that imagined reunion holds no balm for this raw ache. This grief, a relentless tide, floods my world, leaving it muted, drained of color and sound. Each memory, a chipped shard, slices open the wound. Life, so fragile, so fleeting, a stark reminder of what I've lost. Yet, amidst the torrent, quiet moments bloom, whispers of shared laughter, echoes of love that linger, and give my heart a tender grace.
NW
