His scent is fading away so quickly nowadays.

I can’t remember it enough to describe it anymore.

Longing for him has becoming a hobby

Of mine.

Taking away most of my thoughts,

That’s how I spend my time.

I write him letters,

Nearly daily now.

Telling him all that I want, as if he never drifted away.

It seems like the sun is finally starting to peak through,

I can feel the warmth cross my face,

Filling my stomach, fluttering like fireflies.

Oh, how the day is yellow.

But, never forget,

The sun sets,

For the night to come.

And oh does it


The grey night, lasts days...


Sometimes months.

It’s really uncertain when the night will come again.

Some days, I think it actually is day, but the sky is covered in grey.

Maybe I’m looking in the reflection.

Days were always longer with him.

Almost always, clear skies above.

But with the curse of being young,

I gave him a tail and wings to fly away.

So he soared, headed straight for the sun.

Sophia Shepherd
Sophia Shepherd
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Sophia Shepherd
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