Vapors, but not the Markie Kind

I look at that empty seat next to me. Once before, a warmth rest above guiding the sun’s rays, as we would stare into each other’s eyes singing, “Besame Mucho.”

And kiss, we did. Till dawn came from behind our closed eyes. Thin slivers of light cut through the black night, reminding us of the warmth we once felt. A warmth we fought for in perpetuity, though I wavered in purity.

Chasing the Sun only left us following the long dark; clinging to each other like a life preserver in the expansive oceanic nothingness of a candle that burnt too hot too quick.

As the vapors trail off the seat you once held, and the rays of light have finally returned to me; I can rest easy, like a lizard on a stone, knowing that brighter days are to come.

But when that cold and bitter night returns, as we all know it will, I can breathe easy knowing the Sun will always be here tomorrow. And though we won’t see it together, I hope you can sit still in the thought that yours are the only eyes that need to see it.

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