Anniversary

It crept into conversations and lie there like a gigantic invisible octopus we’d tiptoe around. It laced itself unto some idle thought, ending in quiet tears. Bound around my ring finger, a hollow thought for every hollow twirl. Sometimes I see your outline in some faces. Fragments of mouldy photographs for memories.

It has been four years and I am four years and a little too much older. You’re shallow breaths and wet eyelashes on a quiet bus ride. But I’m better.

I’m here, 4 years too late.