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The salty cool air ran through your ginger Hair, as I faced your unseen yet inevitable leave
I didn't want you to go, nor to miss your warmth

And as I watched you leave my front door, I thought about all the time we spent down at that old house on the shore, on the cliff near the rocks.
I'll miss the way its floors creaked, the way it felt dancing with the windows open, the sounds of the ocean's waves not far from us.
I'll miss it all.

But as I looked into your warm brown eyes becoming pool's of honey In the sun,
I realized what I'll miss most.

I'll yearn to be in the fuzzy warmth and familiarity of your presence,
your energy surrounding me in a hazy daze.

Now that you're gone, the world feels so raw.
And those creaks of that old house's floors became cracks.
Cracks became holes,
and holes became voids.
Now the facade keeps crumbling.

That house seemed to slip away from me, each day after your disappearance.
And as the saltwater waves of the Pacific crash into the jagged shore,
with every rock tumbling out to sea,
and as every sheet of fog blurred the lines between you and me,
I watched it wither and wilt
until it was up and gone, just like how you left me be.

And sometimes all I have of you, is a memory of us restricted to a Polaroid in evidence.


-RY
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References: Stranger, By Ethel Cain
© Rynne