Your smile

I pulled back the curtain, but I don’t know what I expected to see. Nothing, I suppose. But still, with the wishes I have made on a thousand eyelashes, on as many dull pennies found in the gutter, I wished. I thought maybe…maybe.

My wishes are used now. I’ll not see you again. Not in the smoke of a hundred fires, not in the half-light of the rest of my mornings. How terrible is it that I have forgotten your voice? I can remember your words but not the you that gave them shape.

What did I think I would see when I pulled back that curtain?

I thought I would see you there, by the door. Leaning against the doorframe in a grey huskies shirt, sweat pants and your ratty grey moccasins. Why did I think of you in grey? Because your colours have faded, like your voice.but I knew that if I could see you, you’d be smiling.

I’ll never forget your smile.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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