4.30pm catches my eye.
The time you transitioned to another world.
Icy blue streaks of the early sunset cross tonight's sky, 
A stark comparison to the thunder grey of Tuesday last.

It feels as if you are here, but you're not.

I catch my breath
At the void of your absence,
Filled with a need to throw open the windows
And let your soul free into the universe;

Almost as if you are here. 
But you're not.

The urge to recall you from the stars above
Fills my chest with a roaring pain;
To scream into the blackness 
At the unfairness of your loss.

I wish you were here.
But you're not.

February 2024.