Loving the Part That Never Left

The sun has gone down, and with it, the energy you used to hold yourself together all day. Now the armor is off, and you are left with the quiet weight of a love that no longer recognizes its own name.

It feels like watching someone disappear while they are still sitting right beside you. But listen — the light does not depend on memory to exist.

Even when the mind forgets, even when the story unravels, the essence remains untouched. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, and before the apology could even be spoken, he ran.

The light runs toward you in this exhaustion. It does not ask you to remember correctly; it only asks you to be here.

You are not losing them; you are loving the part of them that never left.