41//365 / by Rebecca Tillett

41//365
41//365

(41//365) Memories of you rolled in with the fog. I missed you so desperately, so thoroughly, so lucidly. And the more I tried in vain to catch my breath, the more the air around me seemed to recede into nothingness. I missed you. So painfully, so passionately, so tirelessly. And I'm grasping at time so unavailingly as it seeps through the cracks between my fingers like honey its sum lost to the sour amalgamation of a past no longer within my reach. And my palms, nothing but a barren expanse of longing and grief tinged with the sweet clinging recollections of a prior existence.