no salt, no grief, just a quiet lonesome ache for the life that might have been.
you could have been sitting there with us, laughing and remembering and catching up on everything and nothing. but it no longer felt like there's a ghost of you that lingers here, anymore.
and so instead of running through the rain i walked-- fast, yes-- but still a walk. passing and remembering the bus stop where i sat and stared into the gathering evening gloom minutes after i left your wake. listening to the song-- so, so, so apt-- that had come up the moment i came within sight of that bus stop.
the same song that only nights ago had driven me to tears as i listened to it in the dead of the night. and even then-- even then they had been tears born less of a howling gap than an unplacid void, more tears for form's sake than pain.
but today-- no tears. not a single drop.
only the rain, clean and cold and utterly, utterly beautiful.
we miss you, friend.