Of All The Colors...

There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realize that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realize, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps, though you can put your hand out to where things were and feel that tense, shining dullness of the space where the memories are.

“I wish I had done everything on earth with you.”

“If you cant get someone off your mind they are probably supposed to be there.”

“I just want you to know that there will be a piece of you in me. Always.”