missing you

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The Silence You Leave

Monday evening. I’m walking through a dead village. The wind creates scary noises in the black foliage above me, the rain on the asphalt reflects the street lights. It’s cold, my hand is cold and with no distraction around me I can’t help but notice the void you’ve left. The sky above me is pitch-black, there is no moon I can look at that would soothe my heart. My hand feels cold and I suspiciously turn around because of every step that disrupts the...