The Time Between Dusk and Dawn



It's one of those nights. The nights when the silence screams louder than any thunder and every memory of you feels like a fresh wound. 

 

You're probably somewhere out there. Maybe looking out your window at the same downpour, but without the ache that's consuming me. We haven't spoken in months. Not since it all fell apart. 

 

You've always vanished when the skies weep. Retreating to your solitary island, leaving me to drown in the deluge of my own despair.

 

Memories flicker through my mind. Now, these cherished moments are shards of glass, cutting deep into the tender flesh of my longing. 

 

"Forever" used to feel like an eternity then. Now, it feels like a lifetime ago.

 

Each drop that hits the windowpane is a tiny hammer blow against my already shattered heart. Tracing the outline of your name on the misted glass. The letters blurred as tears streamed down my face. Oh, your name used to be in my whispered prayer. But now it tastes like ash on my tongue.

 

The clock ticks of the life we could've had. I picture you alone in your room. Do you ever think of me? Do you ever remember the promises we made under that rain-soaked sky? 

 

Distance feels wider than any ocean. I try to remember the good times. But all I can see is the hollow ache in the space where my happiness used to reside. I knew that some wounds could never truly heal. The time between dusk and dawn has become a haunting reflection of how quickly it all slipped away.

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