Between Night and Morning

Some losses leave behind more than memories.

Every night, she dreams of him.

His brown eyes.

His dark hair.

The warmth of his arms around her. The feeling of his lips against hers.

For a few precious hours, he is there again, and the grief that consumes her during the day disappears beneath the moonlight.

But morning always comes.

And with it, he is gone.

She doesn't know whether he's somewhere beyond her reach, living a life without her, or if grief has created a place where they can still find each other.

So she stops asking questions.

Because sometimes love is easier to hold onto in the darkness.

And sometimes letting go doesn't mean forgetting.