Where Your Name Used to Be I folded tomorrow into yesterday, as every dream still bore your likeness. The silence grew fluent in your voice, echoing it through every vacant space. The coffee cooled untouched beside my hand, the sunrise dimmed its usual brilliance. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as though reluctant to speak your name. I sought understanding in the rain, yet storms offer only their descent. They do not explain why hearts can fracture while the world continues its course. Still, beneath these fragments, a quiet resilience endures. Flowers do not seek winter’s permission; they bloom when the moment arrives. I will carry these scars without concealment. They stand as evidence that love existed. And in time, this fractured melody will become the song that restores me.
