Unfinished Things

On this side of the world, life is a tapestry stitched by nightfall; another story told in echoes and emptied laughter. Footprints linger like the absence of a lover, nostalgia clinging as we grow, as we know. We grew up learning to carry a broken spirit. Now we know why we remain broken; we are masters at... leaving things unfinished. The sun sets faster, the flowers wilt sooner. This thing called death teaches haste. By midnight, everything good returns: warmth, soft laughter, happiness, like a lover who left without goodbye, dying before morning, and finding us again at midnight.