Post #2134717

Dry leaves scrape along the path, your name, almost, then gone. Heat sits in the dirt, unmoving, a version of me that thought staying meant something. A magpie watches from the fence, the last time I felt certain slips out of reach. The river moves past rock without pause, all the waiting I mistook for patience. Wind lifts the branches, lets them fall, something in me still doesn’t know when to leave.