Clouds filled my view as I took a seat on the flight heading toward Seattle. Then silence settled in around me.
Last night, I touched my lips with Jayce. Gentle was the way it felt. So right came that moment. Pure stayed the memory.
Flying there felt strange, like a path I hadn't planned. Seattle waited ahead, quiet under clouds. Daniel was already there, somewhere beyond the runway.
After my phone shut down, messages piled up - no way to touch them. Silence took over once notifications died.
Thinking was what I had to do.
Yet the more he pondered, the deeper the mess became.
Darkness brought his image rushing back. There was Jayce, clear again, lips meeting mine. Instead of holding on, he pushed me toward my path. Each blink pulled me into that moment once more.
Again.
Somehow, releasing you feels like the truest form of holding on.
That letter he wrote. What came out of his mouth. Half a decade spent putting me first.
Fingers trembled when my lips met his that last time.
