you were the bluest light,
beneath this giant canopy—
now it’s trees, silhouetted,
charcoal sketches.
a bird streaks through dusk in silent flight,
for the sake of dreaming,
& purple cloud-trails whisper along the navy curtain,
as a plane swings-sword clean through the moon,
leaving behind
the bristle of a witch’s broom—

this is July I never thought would come.

but here we are,
and it feels empty without you.
i’m trying hard to make peace with that.

there are new voices—
many of them kind,
some even fill the silences better.

but the same way beauty overwhelms,
thoughts overwhelm.
thoughts are like weeds,
and none of them burrow as deep as yours—

so i catch myself forgetting again,
humming some neon tune
of love, like long before I ever knew
it came with warnings.