Clemency
Simple.
I hold the days I find you as if they were those rare mornings when we wake from a beautiful dream — gentle drops of rain stirring life inside us, a fleeting moment of truly feeling alive.
The memories we share — small, eternal fragments — come from an uncertain future, a fleeting present, and a real past that gave birth to these words you will never hear from anyone else.
Letting you go hurts.
Releasing your fingers for the last time, watching you return to the distant city you came from — with no way for me to follow, no chance to continue what was barely beginning.
What more could you possibly want to hear from a heart breaking into pieces, from a soul that falls silent in your absence — and aches.
Goodbyes stretch further each time.
Memories blur into a soft haze.
The ties loosen, the paths are lost to the wind.
Would you have been able to follow me?
After all the times I left the door open, asking for nothing.
Some things were never meant to be explained —unexpected gestures, words smudged on paper that mean nothing to anyone else —undecipherable, unconditional.
I pause — hoping you might open your eyes and see the infinity you’re leaving behind, hoping you might feel the darkness that falls over me each time you say goodbye — a goodbye I never agreed to.
I hold the winds still, trying to keep time from slipping away.
I beg the day not to break just yet.
Stay.
Stay here.