Hope.

One week.
I still have the same nail polish on.
A purplish blue.

Today,
I wore that same dress.
The one I saw you last in.

Nothing seems to have changed.
Except for you.
Us.

The tears that drain
In the silent, dark nights,
And the bright, blaring noons.

The sparkles within
Which turned into flames,
That scorch my insides,
Million times a day.

Someday,
I’ll learn to smile,
Reminiscing your hand in mine
And your engulfing embrace.

Soon,
I’ll learn to read,
Without running into you,
Between the spaces of every word.

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