Slow Burn (11 Years)

In my memory

the sun was sharp

It burned ocher-orange

and ripped dark holes

in the fabric behind us

Silhouettes of our hands

grasping at empty space

left dark spots on my retinas

I miss that warm sun, and

somehow you've always

had it

I missed you

When you left,

the sun left with you

I never thought

I would feel this warm again