Apricot Sun (A Story From a Stolen Picture)

He left one day, never to return. I kissed him goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time I would do so. Each morning since, I walk outside to observe the beauty of the morning in the place we once shared. The sunrise fills my eyes but falls short of my heart.

I feel him around me. His presence follows me through the house, his shadow beckons me in the half-asleep moments of the pre-dawn early morning.

I whisper his name. Sometimes, I hear him whisper mine.

I feel his embrace, even now, so many months later.

Absence. Presence. Through love’s filter, they are indistinguishable.

The apricot sun brings him to me.

Love remembered is love born anew, I tell myself.

But I crave the hands that once delivered me into the abyss.

For now, I will stand here and love the apricot sun.

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