It has been over ten years now. It has been eleven.five years. Without her way. Her smile, truly infectious laugh and calming way.
It is true. The sun continues to rise. And then it sets.
And you move forward.
Slow at first.
You quicken to not lose sight of life: ‘it is what she would
have wanted’.
Everydayness begins again. Study. Work. Commitments.
Friends. Bills. Life.
You can’t pinpoint when it first happens, but you begin to
talk about her without over-welling. But it is still not often.
She night whispers sometimes. But it is confused. And you
can’t press pause. Slow the moment down. Ask why. Change the past.
You still think of her in your future. Still wish you could
invite her over for wine. For a cuppa. And a cuddle.
Tell her that you love her. And that you don’t want her to
leave. That you wish she had never left.
And so it spills. eleven.five years deep. Yes the sun
continues to rise and you’ve continued to age. But the hurt is quickly pricked.
The miss very deep. The wounds just as raw.
I miss you x
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