milk + black & white

somewhere between love and fantasy, i became an impossible reality or a glass of water not reached for in the middle of the night.

there are days i think too much on this, knowing my attention should be on other things, so when it returns i wonder if still obsessed, or if it’s like the feeling family members get when their loved one’s photo is on the back of a milk carton.

they never really settle into the idea that they’re gone forever. everywhere they go they look for them, comparing faces to the aged photos in their mind. every phone call is a ring, a question, and a hope all wrapped into the anticipation of sound.

they stop putting up posters because they don’t want their loved one to be placed in the category of missing animal. they use their voices to speak their pain and hope to anyone who’ll listen, knowing it will eventually end up in an unexplored void, a place where love is mountain, and song is echo.

still they never stop climbing, following the ringing ears of their north star on the other side.


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