nour

in the daydream, you bred light and photographed ghosts. ripples were wrinkles that formed where your lips met. you spoke to skeletons about today’s war. the chess game is silent.

in this version, you don’t build windchimes. you don’t find peace. in this version, you are not the standing ovation. you are creaking light.

shhhh open your palm and ask for a ghost. end the night with worry. sink into growth. the daydream was never a promise. it was never pixels or skin or choice.

you bow your head, your back to the violent sun.

please forgive me for cradling you before you left without your light.

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