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Sky
Writer's pictureRawan

ˈer-ˌäs ˈir



I would have sought you in the valleys and the seventh skies in every universe, star, and galaxy. I would write my first poem about you. I would have loved you without knowing you. I would have craved your love, for I know its taste. I would miss it like a distant memory as if this desire had been born in another life. I would long for you without knowing you exist. I would wait for you without knowing when or how. And I would hate, in every lifetime, how much I want you.


You live in the depths of my eyes, and I can almost taste you. I remember the touch of your hair, the softness of your hands, the birthmark on your neck, and the curve of your neck. Wandering in the valleys of your dark soul, I bring the sun to those shadows, love you, write your story like a Greek historical figure, living for a thousand years in my words and memories, and keeping you immortal. I remember you within my soul, clenched in the sadness you know. You were the only person who could find me, and no words would make my mouth as tender as your name.


You have the tenderness and anger of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise. Nothing will ever equal the recollection of being so young together. To be able to choose you in every chapter and to love you as if the end never happened, to reassure you that love is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, and the proximity of our hearts is irrelevant because nothing can minimize my love for you or partially mimic it.


You gently touch my face in my dreams and ask if we should try again. I don't know how many seasons I'll be granted to love you yet. We got married in our minds, and you are reading the grocery list. You built us a home inside your heart. You were born solely to meet me and cross paths. I loved you then and now, and until my last breath, I will love you. Remember me—we existed, and we swallowed the sea together. No space, no time will matter. I think of you in the intervals between the seconds. You have been a celestial event, a unique, starry occurrence, and you are beyond all words I've ever known. I miss you with a depth that cannot be fathomed.


Somebody always needs to go first. I go first.

I'm terrified of spending an entire lifetime trying not to need you.

In another life, when life delivers its promise, you will find me and tell me about the life I missed, and we will race the Guadalquivir River again.

What is remembered lives.

What we write lives.

My confession.

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