Silver Sliver

The moment when you are searching through a recipe box, and there is his hand writing. It looks like it could have been written yesterday. And you remember the type of pen he used. the same yellow wire bound note pad he preferred. exactly where and how he would have been standing at the counter.

The moment when you are unpacking clothes and find a pair of his shorts. The same pair that he gave you to wear one summer morning. The morning you were laughing and suddenly he was extremely grave. And we both knew. We were silly teenagers doing things we shouldn’t have been. He should have kissed me. I shouldn’t have laughed the moment away. ,

That silver sliver icicle of grief that pierces to the bone. Image

 

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