avon

— Catherine Abbey Hodges, from “Solstice on the Middle Fork,” Tar River Review (vol. 59, no. 2, Spring 2020)

one day, i’ll write a poem about this. i’ll find wisdom in your grace and glorify the sorrow from your absence.

one day, i’ll remember you gently.

but right now, it hurts. this isn’t right. i am looking for you in places you’ll never be at again. i am screaming your name and you don’t answer. i am blaming god for being unfair.

right now, you’re gone. right now, this isn’t a lesson about fate, this is pain. this is anger and grief and missing you and regretting the chances i didn’t take. this is begging the universe to let me hold you one last time, just one more minute to tell you how much you were loved.

the future we believed in, the promises we made, they failed.

the future where i’ll stand alone and you’ll still be gone, i’ll try to remember you gently. i’ll try to find grace from the moments we shared. i’ll always love you dearly.

don’t forget about me.

Josh, stay in my heart, forever young.

@s.thuntida 

kissing cheeks is just so personal and loving and caring and beautiful and wow

every now n then i do something little me wouldve loved

📸 esipchenish

— Katy Maxwell