I’ve always loved sunsets. There’s just something about them, y’know? I know they change daily and seasonally and it is impossible to paint them before you see them, but each one is beautiful in its uniqueness. There are the ones that epitomise autumn; the crispness of the air is reflected in the cloudless sky and the soft colours blur into one another with endless grace. A plane glides across the vast expanse and the chemtrails leave love notes in the sky for anyone to see. For anyone to love. The are also those that reflect the chaos that is this world, that reflect the coolness that winter brings, but also the heat and warmth that is shared by those who care. Rolling clouds of bubblegum pink tumble over shrouds of slate; they fade into a fog of midnight blue and they’re so close I can almost touch them. The sun explodes into vivid colour, setting fire to the sky and letting sparks leave their own marks on an already crowded canvas. In my mind I see him leaning down to his love, exploding colour in an attempt to touch her, leaning and stretching and pulling himself apart for his beloved. Beneath my feet, in this bitter winter air, I can feel her heart beating in sync with his, with mine. She is covered in layers of civilisation and buried six feet deep under concrete but she is there. I want to feel her heartbeat under my bare feet but there is more than just concrete between us; there are aeons of hurt and pain and distance that I cannot surmount by myself, nor can he overcome with the distance that separates them. I will just try my best to love her in my own way. I will never love her like he loves her. Again, the sun chases the moon across the sky, again and again and again. She sends flares of flame across the sky, lighting up my life and yet struggling to reach the one who she holds most dear. My heart catches in my throat; they are so close and yet so far. How can it be that their love is so strong and yet so estranged? She tracks and trails her way across the sky, bursting every morning in an attempt to just move closer to the one whom her soul loves. They change, like I do, when the season turns. The sun becomes tired and her attempts to follow become weary. But the moon does not cease. Her love becomes stronger to replace that lost of her beloved. I cannot love like they love; I cannot chase and change and continue on. But I am seeing how I can love another. In those little moments between time, she catches my eye. A smile here, a glance, a touch, a whisper. I am enamoured with her grace and her charm. My heart yearns for more of her and my soul reaches and reaches until I think it will spill out of me. She does not know it but she is so beautiful and my heart aches.

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