#soft sadness

Sometimes I am a great expansion, and in my heart the dead and dying light, as so the newly created;

all.

I can embrace it.

Other times I am the rain, leaving little highlights on little things; mystifying the mundane.

Corrugated roofs, then, are my favourite. Then, I am so abundant! Yet far more often I am but a single

drop.

That is enough.

I cannot quite explain what I am when I am this emptiness, with a hollow touch.

Sometimes, I am afraid that is when I am

human.

There are things I remember without trying like the scent of her hair.

Not perfume. Not anything bottled or named. Just her. Wild, warm, like sunlit sheets and quiet mornings.

It hit me softly, like a whisper against my skin, and suddenly, the world narrowed to nothing but her breath, her neck, the way her hair fell across my chest like something sacred.

I was intoxicated not drunk, but dizzy in the most beautiful way. Like every inhale was a confession I couldn’t stop making.

Even now, I swear I smell it in the wind sometimes. Like she’s near. Like the memory of her refuses to fade politely.

And God if I could bottle it, if I could breathe it forever, I’d give up the world. Just to lose myself again in something so simple, so hers, so ruinous.

You just never chose me.

And somehow,