I rely on little things
to make it to the next horizon,
sleeping in later,
because another day of waking up
means confronting parts of myself
I need to work on,
and parts of you I feel are slipping away.
I push through, walking on
cold, brisk evenings,
when anemic lights flicker
and traffic signs meet empty ghosts,
wondering every day
if the little things will be enough.
If I surround myself with the scents
that make me feel safe,
that envelop me in the memory of you,
will I find a replica of peace?
Of something not so elusive?
Written while listening to "Remember Me" by Anadel