I believed I’d hold those memories,  
like fragile, sunlit things—  
soft with smiles, sweet with sorrow,  
even when I knew I’d lose you.  

Now, they press like cold stones,  
each one carved with your name.  
The joy we had now hollows me—  
all of it turned into weight.  

I want to keep your laugh echoing,  
not the silence left after.
I want our past to warm me,  
not just bleed me drier by the hour.  

Somehow, the light we knew feels thinner,  
and this tide of grief drags me under.  
I miss the way I missed you then—  
when missing didn’t drown me.