The Blue of Your Memory, The Gold of My Now

I often wonder if time is merely a circle, looping us back to the moments where we felt most alive. Standing here under this amber sky, I feel as though my soul has traveled through centuries just to find you again in a crowded city of glass and steel.
You used to say that my eyes held two frozen lakes from another world—distant, cool, yet deep enough to drown in. Today, the wind carries the scent of rain-dampened pavement and expensive coffee, but when I look at you, all I smell is home: old books and sun-warmed skin.
I have worn this necklace every day since we parted; its weight against my collarbone is a constant reminder that some bonds are not broken by distance or years. There is something almost sacred in the way your gaze lingers on me now—a slow, deliberate mapping of my face as if you were rediscovering an ancient map to happiness.
Come closer. I want you to feel the steady rhythm of my heart beneath this thin fabric, a pulse that has beat only for you across different lifetimes. Let us let the city fade into white noise around us; here in this golden hour, there is no past or future—only the quiet heat between our breaths and the silent promise that I will never be lost again.

Editor: South Wind