It’s as if you know.
The words to come.
Before they spread themselves across the page, for your viewing pleasure or disdain.
Whether they bring you glee, grace, or something other, they remain only words—and nothing more–
You remember the last time you felt “that way.”
Before the ending of the end, the beginning of the new beginning.
Where the old things were left for reasons we can’t remember, but the longing still remains.
So unfamiliar, and yet, it’s like the sound of your mother’s voice crooning the words, “I love you,” as your eyelids become too heavy to resist.
Sunlit afternoons that never happened; sharp grass pricking the soft of your foot, biting as it caresses.
Buried thoughts of the one day never to come—obnoxious laughter of a child discomforted by the quiet.
And yet, still one small hope lingers, of just that tiny little wish I wanted to share with you—it’s the smile that steals across your face when you can’t stop the thought.
A memory of seeing the sight for the very first time.
You could almost feel that warm, comforting breath brush against your skin again.
…Just for a moment…
And that’s all there is.
But maybe one day, just once, there could be just a little bit more.