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  • Writer's pictureKalan

Love. People. Light.

A smell I love sings to the inner part of me, it catches me. I savor it.

The window open, light creeps into an otherwise dark room. She is never so far gone, the light. We must simply open our eyes to it.

The flowers I chose smile at me. The sun brought them to life, and they are beautiful in their keeping. A sweet moment in time before they are gone.

A bee lays dead upon my windowsill. Was it her I heard buzzing last night? Was it her final flight?

My mind wanders to those I love.

My heart is taken captive by the smiles they bring to me, their gift of love.

The green all around, life after a long, cold winter.

The dust rests on the old cabinet. It lays upon my heart as well, tucked in the corners it hides. I open the doors, dust it off. Remembering that love is worth fighting for; remembering that the precious ones who bring light and life to the deepest part of me are worth the whole world. The gift of them so rare. These people of mine, they are always worth fighting for, dusting off for. Picking myself up for. Love. People. Light. The beauty that can always be found even when I have to search hard to find it. I smile, and I remember. My heart. She keeps beating. To the ones I love, the ones who carry pieces of me. She beats. With all the unknown precious time I have left, she beats to theirs.

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