jolly plume
One Day Longer
We traded songs, notes drifting through the static,
A melody only we could hear,
a conversation built on what could be.
We talked of meetings, of moments yet to arrive,
but time never quite allowed for it.
He spoke of fire—
how it burned too bright,
how it almost consumed him.
But just before it could,
he turned it off—quit the smoking, the drinking,
found a kind of peace in the quiet.
I thought it meant time had stretched for him,
that he had found the room to breathe
and I didn’t need to rush to reply.
One more day,
maybe two.
But that day,
I paused,
words gathering dust before I could send them.
And he was gone.
A heart that had fought so hard,
gave way in an instant,
and all I was left with
were the echoes of a conversation half-finished.
I never thought it would end like this,
so sudden,
the flame extinguished before I could catch it.
One more message,
one more song shared,
maybe then—maybe then—
But now, all that remains
are embers that never fade,
a wreath too small
to hold what I never said.
buoyant sand
gaunt hornet